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Fatima’s life smells of the nomad; the smell of the hot sun on the black tent, the smell of fresh milk and hot bread baking on the teak. She is a woman from the heart of the tribe, with two daughters whose eyes are as bright as the morning in the mountains. Once upon a time, their home was the horizon and their roof was the sky, but now their lives have taken a sharp turn; a sudden disaster, troubles that hit them like a tornado and took the peace from their small tribe. In the meantime, Amir stood like a pillar of stone. He opened his house to Fatima and his two daughters; not only the door, but also his heart. These days, from dawn to dusk, with his dirty hands and sweaty forehead, he deals with sand and cement; every shovel of sand and every mortar he stirs seems to be building a piece of the future. The walls grow taller under the weight of her efforts, just as hope grows taller in their hearts. But Fatima has brought her roots with her. In the small courtyard of Amir’s house, the aroma of nomadic food wafts; a simple pot simmers on a flame, and in it, the flavors of the mountains and plains come alive. The girls sit beside him, one cleaning vegetables, the other kneading dough. The sound of their laughter, like the bells of sheep on the mountain slope, breaks the heavy silence of the difficult days. They are still dealing with the consequences of that disaster; there are still worried looks and sleepless nights. But nomadic life means enduring, meaning pulling the ropes tighter when the wind shakes the tent. Amir creates shelter with the walls he builds; Fatima provides warmth with the food she cooks. One builds a house with cement, the other builds hearts with love. And perhaps this is the secret to their salvation: building, every day, however small. Wall by wall. Bite by bite. Hope by hope. #nomadic_life #steadfast #hope #strong_woman #masculinity #building #love #family #hard_days #feeling_good