The Night was ordinary. The scent of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the small, two-place property in which Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two small children. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a story from faculty. It was an easy, sacred instant of peace—an https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Relatives's Cry: The Human Cost Of Blasphemy Laws in Pakistan
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