My lungs feel as if I’m sucking in shards of glass. I can’t breathe, I’m not sure I want to. I try to shut out the image of Ahmed’s baby boy. An hour ago he had been smiling at us both. He had been turning his soother around in his mouth, a trick his father made him do for everyone who would watch. Looking at him made me forget for a moment where we were, where we had come from. I  could shut out the smell of vomit and faeces, the look of wretchedness etched on every single face as we bob aimlessly in the ocean. Looking at Ahmed’s boy gave me hope that I might someday live to have children. READ MORE