I swung from one place to the next, sometimes backward, sometimes forward, capitalizing on my own momentum, knowing that at some point my arms—or, more accurately, my quivering bank balance, accessed through foreign ATMs—would give out, and I’d fall to the ground.

In my version of paradise, the air was always cold and the rivers ran with candy.

I think it's the human spirit inside of all of us that has an enormous capacity to survive.

I'm not afraid of IED's, bullets, mortars.

Forgiving is not an easy thing to do.

I know firsthand how critical support systems are.

Women in Somalia face almost unimaginable oppression.