The human story is the story of all of us. We all find something of ourselves in a story, something from us in all of them. Sometimes it is something that makes you angry and sometimes thankful. Sometimes you cannot understand, sometimes you are surprised by what you hear. Stories show us the hidden aspects of life. Stories often cry, often laugh, surprise, upset, makes you happy.

The story is just like a road. As you listen, read and see, you want to walk, go on it, seek new ways. Stories are like a book; while someone talks, you turn the pages of his/her heart. Stories take you away.

The story I am listening to starts in Shengal and stretches from Aleppo to the mountains and Heftanin. This story is a good story, a story that should be...

It's a war-born story. A story that develops and grows on the battlefield. Battlefield; ruthlessness, blood, children, mercy, tears, sacrifice, will, determination, rape, occupation, love, emotion, ideas, belief, burning, looting, loss, young people, mother, father, woman, man a square where something is in the middle; battlefield. The story of Demhat Afrin on the battlefield...

Demhat Afrin: He was born in 2001 from an Arab mother in Shengal, the land of the ancient people who still have not healed the wounds of 72 ferman. With his bare feet, Demhat grew in brown lands. And he grew up adhering to his belief and worshiping. Years went by. On a red apocalyptic day, when the smoke was enveloping, the blackness was flowing from the skies, and the earth was full of blood and women, his young hands swore that he would not obey anyone. He did not close his ears to the cries of the people. He filled his ears with unforgettable screams, cries, ugly black flag smiles. And he filled his eyes with the peshmergas preparing to leave Shengal, children dying of hunger and thirst, raped women, murdered men, kidnapped youth, deserts soaked with blood.

And until being young, he saw 12 cavalrymen of whom he had never heard of, never even spoken of, never even dreamed of, and sworn to end the foolishness of betrayal, young Arab Demhat.

While everyone was going to the exit gates of Shengal, they [the 12 cavalrymen] crossed the walls and stepped through the entrance gates of Shengal through a white dust to the ancient city. And they drew their swords following the instruction of Kurdish people's leader Abdullah Öcalan, "O guerrilla, keep your mind and heart intact".

Doing the same, without distinction. As long as there is a little earth love and consciousness. Just as slaves are sold regardless of age, their souls are in the squares and freedom falls in love with you regardless the age. Young Demhat also follows these cavalrymen… He gets on his horse, gets the sword in his hand and fights. Demhat, without even knowing the language of the cavalries, just looks at them and follows them.

From Shengal to Aleppo and from there to the mountains of Kurdistan. Demhat is now 20 years old. Born on a battlefield, his story continues in Heftanin, a war zone. With a bit of philosophy, a bit of Kurdish, a little bit of love, a little bit of a passion for mountains and land, a bit of anger for the invaders and a passion for freedom, he is now fighting against the invaders alongside other peoples in Heftanin.

His love for Heftanin is not little like his Kurdish, but a lot and beautiful like his Arabic… This makes him fight and live. Because he knows and is aware that if there were not those who became immortal on this battlefield, his own people and other peoples would be buried in history. That's why he rode with the freedom cavalrymen, Demhat Afrin, from Shengal to Heftanin...