The Evening was common. The smell of daal and freshly baked roti filled the small, two-area property wherever Anwar Masih lived together with his spouse and two small children. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from faculty. It had been an easy, sacred second of peace—an https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Household's Cry: The Human Price Of Blasphemy Regulations in Pakistan
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