We stand still like trees--no talking, no looking at one another, no asking questions, no requesting water or trips to the bathroom, no sitting or squatting. We no not know what we are waiting for or why we are waiting. The hours stretch like rubber bands that break and snap against our skins, measured by the ticking of boots, going and coming across the yard, in and out of the building. I keep my eyes on our main guard, . . .He looks at us as though we are only suitcases in his custody.

— Tasting the Sky by Ibtisam Barakat, Ibtisam Bakarat (Page 6 - 7)