LAST REFUGE
The sun was about to hide itself behind the black peak, when grey-haired Rafeel reached the old
Bus-Stand of his village. Shadow dark, his grandmother would have called it elvish dark. Head
still dreamy with travel, he took a deep breath and turned to gaze around him. The air was slow
moving and damp, sweet with the smell of wood fires at the village Bus-Stand. Though the
particular smell of land made him very excited, he was feeling himself an outsider in the land
where he had spent many years of his life. Twenty years ago, he'd left his own land in utmost
dejection. He had been young, brave and non-conformist, and therefore was declared a rebel
against the army government. There were two choices open to him: he could either surrender or
leave the country. He chose the latter.
Now, twenty years later, he was at the same place and nothing had changed; black rock was
concealing the sun with the