Every bombed village is my hometown. And every dead child is my child. Every grieving mother is my mother. Every crying father is my father. Every home turned to rubble is the home I grew up in. Every brother carrying the remains of his brother across borders is my brother. Every sister waiting for a sister who will never come home is my sister. Every one of these people is ours, just like we are theirs. We belong to them, and they belong to us.
— James Baldwin
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