The Place Where Time Stopped
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The waiting room was silent. The clock on the wall had stopped, and no one had even noticed. Time no longer moved there. The chair, the table, the walls… they were all like witnesses. Everything stayed the same; only the faces changed. In that small room of the camp, people would come and go. But one thing always remained in the room: the waiting. A translator was awaited, a message, an approval, or an ID card… Sometimes even a simple smile was enough for that silence. And at night, the room would talk to itself. “Today, no one smiled,” said the wall. “Someone cried quietly again,” said the chair. And as the light slowly filtered down from the ceiling, the shadows grew, and the stories stretched. Time didn’t really stop there; only people did. And as they stopped, another kind of patience began to grow inside them. Perhaps waiting was a form of hope. Because even if some things never come, waiting for them keeps a person alive.