Every time I visit Iraq in pictures, I die another little death.
Yesterday I was in Sadr City. I insisted that I would stay — even while I watched families leaving the city ahead of the rumored air raids. I sat eating a nervous breakfast when I heard a whirr and a violent crash; I went deaf a split second before the US mortar round killed me. I was a thirty-five year old woman; how had I survived that long?
I’ve edited my face into the circumstances; see below.
