I remember a misty image of my childhood so distant and fragile that I do not know whether it is fantasy or reality. I was accompanying my uncle in the neighborhood where we lived. He went missing during the war and his body was eventually returned designated as a ‘Martyr’ after eleven years. I see soldiers everywhere; on everyday roaming around the city, on the forgotten posters on the city’s walls. I see them and the idea that if there is a war, these soldiers will become a memory for me and for the city does not leave me. In…
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