ICORN

I’m loving the summer in southern Italy, so similar to that of my home city, Harare.  I have been in Italy for a couple of months now. Very limited interaction with people: I do not speak Italian, and not many in this remote small town can speak English. I use a lot of my time

Life is a journey through reality that is filled with our emotions. Exile is the feeling of being without land, even though we were born on Earth. Borders are fake lines arranged to polarise our human race and to create a reason to fight. When we were born, we had neither nationalities nor religions; we

It’s morning. I wake up easily, rub my eyes like any person, and prepare to face a new day. Maybe I yawn and wonder, while I make myself a cup of coffee, what should I wear today? The rain clothes or autumn ones? Maybe I’ll also enjoy the symphony of rustling leaves, my footsteps mixed

Each day seems very long:  the day turns to a week, week turns to months, and months turn into a year. My family and I have been here in the United States for eight years now. When I look back on my life journey, it was like yesterday. I’ve come a long way. Life wasn’t

In 1950, China started the annexation of Tibet, claiming it had always been part of China despite Tibet’s claim to be an autonomous region.  Following brutal suppression by the Chinese, on 31 March 1959, Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama and political and spiritual leader of Tibet, was forced to escape to India. He began

Only four years ago, I was devastated by the piece of paper in my hands. It was a rejection of our application for a living permit in Georgia. I had spent the last two years trying to stay in this neighboring country after I fled my native country, Azerbaijan.  At that moment, Georgian immigration services

I clearly recall the date when I arrived in my new city in Sweden. As a middle-aged woman, I reached my destination without knowing anything about the days to come. I had left behind my son alone in that restless part of the world where I was threatened and where every day was like my

To be torn away from home, especially for an aspiring writer, heralds a sure death of the Soul, albeit a slow one. That is how I felt when, after years of deliberations with myself; I left my country, Eritrea. For decades on end, I had considered myself an active participant in the realization of a