The Dreams That Bring Us Here
It is a quiet Thursday evening in the fall of 2015 at the Dara Medical Center in Brooklyn, where I’m volunteering as a medical observer. The Center is almost empty. At the far end of the corridor, I see an elderly man wearing a black sweater and eyeglasses. His face is pale; his eyes and hands are creased and wrinkled.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
“I’m Palestinian,” I answer.
“Pakistan?” he replies incredulously.
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