‘Adam Habibi, you’re old enough to understand this is the beginning of a war.’ Mama never used to shout at me. It’s at times like these that I miss her the most. Yasmine’s fingers ruffle through her hair. Her fingers look frail, just like the number one. I feel sorry for the number one, it seems lonely. So I think I feel sorry for Yasmine too. Yasmine lifts her head up now. That means she is not upset. Her eyes look like the number eight, friendly and sad.
‘Yes I’m 14, does that make you happy Yasmine? What do you mean a war? Do you mean like in Dighton’s paintings? But I can’t see that from the window. Look here Yasmine, kids are just running around. No one is wearing uniforms.’
—Sumia Sukkar (Eyewear Publishing)