The Evening was common. The scent of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the little, two-place property wherever Anwar Masih lived with his spouse and two little ones. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from faculty. It had been an easy, sacred second of peace—a picture https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Family's Cry: The Human Expense Of Blasphemy Guidelines in Pakistan
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