One day I will buy a piece of land back home in Syria. I will work hard on it and plant orchards with peach, plum, apple, olive and fig trees. There will be a simple bungalow on it, with a place for people to sit in the evenings. There will be jasmine and roses, and a small water fountain to trickle in the background, and where we can put a watermelon to cool whilst we drink tea and talk or sing. There would be a daughter, I will call her Layla, and I will carry her on my shoulders through the orchards and pluck her one of the peaches or plums, telling her stories of what her daddy has seen and learnt in his life. I'll make sure she wears a hat because the sun might be beating strongly.