Clear Plastic, a cot with tubes, a smear of crusted blood, and my little brother inside-my best friend, arms and legs motionless.
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People often ask me where I’m from. It’s usually that first friendly exchange while traveling. “I’m from Northern Ireland, ” I say. I sometimes get the reply, “But you look Spanish or Portuguese”. Here, in Morocco, I’m told I look Moroccan; in the Philippines, I looked Filipino.
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