Daisy Al-Amir’s ‘The Tale of the Oil Jug’
Each stood combing their hair and tidying their clothes and looking at themselves; some admiring themselves and some gazing at their reflections in despair.
Each stood combing their hair and tidying their clothes and looking at themselves; some admiring themselves and some gazing at their reflections in despair.
When the field marshal heard the roar coming through the north-facing window of the spacious restroom, he was taken aback.