Father-Son, Ishaisms, Poetry, Slave

The Son of the Slave

I played for long hours under the scorching Egyptian heat, with my friends, the children of the street… I had no mother, my father was my life; he gave me home and food, I was a strong lad, living a life both satisfactory and good. My friends envied me, for my father gave me more… Continue reading The Son of the Slave

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