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Mama used to say when it rains it pours. I read Rohingyas refugees stories almost every night, but their suffering never seems to cease. Last night I was choked up when I read a story when a Buddist soldier ripped a baby from his mother arms, threw him in a fire to burn alive and gang-raped the mother. That mother still grieved and cry every of that scorched memory. If that doesn't move you, you have a heart of stone.

 

  

FM

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