A month ago, I kissed my children goodnight — then watched five-year-old Ward al-Sheikh Khalil walk through an inferno. That hellish orange glow of childhood cremated alive is still seared behind my eyelids. Ward’s resemblance to my own daughter shattered me. I see it every time I blink: her ponytail bouncing with each step, a warped reflection of my child’s carefree walk.
The fact that the entire world saw what happened to Ward with barely any consequence led me to a…
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News Source: mondoweiss.net

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