大约一年前,在我任教的黎巴嫩贝鲁特美国大学办公室附近,我看见两个叙利亚难民孩子坐在擦鞋箱上。手上脸上和身上沾了不少鞋油,百无聊赖的样子。小个子是阿萨德,缺了几颗牙齿,穿着破烂的毛衣,流着汗。高个子是阿卜杜拉,娃娃脸,脸颊有一块伤痕,我误以为是一滴流淌的眼泪。“你们想用我的iPad拍些照片吗?”我用阿拉伯语问道。阿卜杜拉接过iPad,将镜头瞄准天 Nearly a year ago, in the neighborhood of the American University office in Beirut, where I taught, Lebanon, I saw two Syrian refugee children sitting on the shoebox. Hands and body stained a lot of shoe polish, bored look. Assad is a small man, missing a few teeth, wearing tattered sweater, sweating. Tall man is Abdullah, doll face, cheeks have a scar, I mistakenly thought it was a trickle of tears. “Do you want to take some photos with my iPad?” I asked in Arabic. Abdullah took the iPad, the lens aimed at the day