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How it started does not matter. Everything is different now.

A spark, a simmer, a stranger’s torch—everything burns anyway.

The first insult, the first stone—remote realities, not mine.

To rage, to wage, to flee—nothing decided by me.

The shells hurt us all, but they wou...

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Women in Pakhtun Long March: Building Peace and Challenging Stereotypes

March 14, 2018

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May 21, 2020

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