Syrian journalist and activist Kholoud Helmi was struggling with her emotions.
“It’s too much sometimes,” she said. “I feel like a chocolate that has a shell outside but inside it’s hollow. People don’t want to hear the pain. And if I cry days and nights it won’t change anything.”
Helmi, from the Damascus suburbs, could be forgiven her tears. Her brother long ago went missing and is feared dead in the nearly six-year-old conflict; an uncle, cousins and many friends have been killed.
“Sometimes you lose control. And then you go to bed, hug your pillow, weep and get up and don’t show any of it when you get up the next day,” Helmi said in flawless, accent-free English in an...