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Two Middle Eastern mothers, Fatima and Parveen are sitting in the cafe chatting over a pint of goat's milk.

Fatima, the elder of the two pulls her bag out, lifts her veil and starts flipping through pictures and two begin reminiscing.

"This is my oldest son Mohammed. He's 24 years old now"

"Yes, I remember him as a baby" says Parveen cheerfully.

"He's a martyr now though" Fatima confides.

"Oh so sad dear" says Parveen.

Fatima continues.....

" This is my second son Kalid. He's 21."

"Oh, I remember him," says Parveen happily, "he had such curly hair when he was born."

"He's a martyr too," says Fatima quietly.

"Oh gracious me " says Parveen.

Fatima again...

"And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He's 18," she whispers.

Yes," says Parveen enthusiastically, "I remember when he first started school."

"He's a martyr also," says Fatima, with tears in her eyes.

After a pause and a deep sigh, Parveen looks wistfully at the photographs and says

"They blow up so fast, don't they?"

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