The Night was regular. The odor of daal and freshly baked roti loaded the smaller, two-space home wherever Anwar Masih lived with his spouse and two young children. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from college. It had been a straightforward, sacred second of peace—an image https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Family Members's Cry: The Human Price of Blasphemy Regulations in Pakistan
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