His family's heart, on a wall

When I took the photo, all I saw was ripped paper, a black and white photo, an ancient wall. I saw texture and potential.

The ripped paper was far above my head and I couldn't make out the Arabic writing scrawled next to a faded black and white photo of a boy.

I should have known better.

When I opened up the picture, I saw that it was a poster for a missing person.

I thought twice about posting it but in the end, I chose this one because it felt right, for many reasons. There was more of the ancient Bab Zuweila gate. There was more of stone and walls, smoothed down by hands and time. There was more of today's world with scaffolding that never seems to go away. And there was this boy. His face. His family's heart, on a wall, in a city, that doesn't notice, when one of millions, goes missing.

What happens when they don't find you