The Evening was normal. The odor of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the little, two-home property in which Anwar Masih lived with his wife and two kids. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred moment of peace—a picture https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/
A Family's Cry: The Human Cost Of Blasphemy Guidelines in Pakistan
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