Little Ali is sitting under a tree, on the side of the road. It is summer, and most of the people in the city are gone. No one knows why but they say it is usual that this happens at this time of the year. In the small square nearby he can hear beating drums. All those remaining in the neighborhood are frantically jumping to the rhythm. They are drinking beer and dancing like there is no tomorrow. The music, the voices, the laughs and the heat remind Ali, though now unclearly, of pictures from his home. Before the war.
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