Lorin al-Koumi

The date: April 27, 2021. This was the long-awaited joy. For the first and last time, I was going to be an uncle. Lorin, the child I adored before my hands ever touched her, the one with the heart-stealing laugh, the "fruit of the house" as her grandfather loved to call her. She loved to play and go on outings with all the children in the family. Perhaps she dreamed of growing up to become an engineer like her father? Or a teacher like her mother? Maybe if she had grown up, her beauty would have made her a model. The possibilities were many and varied, but the occupier's machine of criminality killed her treacherously, stole her innocent childhood, deprived us of her laugh, and deprived me of touching her forever. This occupation has committed crimes against our people, our children, our women, and our men, and has spread corruption in our land. It was not enough that it killed her; it also killed her mother, Hanin, her uncle, Mahmoud, and his four children with her: Hassan, Farah, Hanin, and Joud. Remember them, and speak well of them so that the world will know their story.