Organized death

We finally reunited after six years of bloody suffering, loss, displacement, humiliation, begging, deprivation, homelessness, and death. Port Said became our home. I married five years later and had four children. Suddenly, I found myself very much alive. In the blink of an eye, multiple wars and decades passed, capturing the attention of the global intellectual scene, yet it resonates with me every night. When I lay my head down to sleep, I repeat for a while, or perhaps it echoes involuntarily: "I am Aram. My name is Aram. Aram Simonian. From Sis. The Turks slaughtered my family... and a dream saved me." After six years of continuous suffering, loss, displacement, begging, deprivation, homelessness, and death, we finally reunited. Port Said became our new home. I married five years later and had four children. Suddenly, I found myself very much alive. In the blink of an eye, multiple wars and decades passed, and I became a true Egyptian in every sense of the word. However, every night, as I lay my head on the pillow to sleep, I find myself repeating, or perhaps it echoes within me against my will: "I am Aram. My name is Aram. Aram Simonyan. I am from Sis. The Turks slaughtered my parents... and a dream saved me."