Each person’s heart is its own archive layered with the sediments of romance, friendship, family, grief—but not everyone has quite the right words for it. 

Photo by John Cobb When London-based intercultural theatre company, Border Crossings, invited me to the opening night of their latest production about Syrian refugee women, I was immediately invested. I found myself at Hoxton Hall last week eagerly looking forward to a night that would transport me to a sensorily and culturally rich experience of the Levant. ‘Suppliants of Syria’ is a modern retelling of Aeschylus’s Greek tragedy, ‘Suppliants', one of the earliest classics to consider the...

From a young age, I was taught that my passport was synonymous with my identity in the world. Alongside my name, handy phone numbers, and home addresses, I had branded this fact into my brain. Even in my sleep, I could recite my passport number and its expiry date in a heartbeat.