The Night was regular. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti loaded the smaller, two-space dwelling the place Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two children. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from university. It absolutely was a simple, sacred minute of peace—a https://youtu.be/gPn_ICbEbdU
A Loved Ones's Cry: The Human Price of Blasphemy Regulations in Pakistan
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