The Evening was ordinary. The scent of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the small, two-area house where by Anwar Masih lived together with his spouse and two youngsters. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred moment of peace—a https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Loved Ones's Cry: The Human Price of Blasphemy Rules in Pakistan
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