H2O plays a sig­nif­i­cant role in the shift­ing land­scapes of human his­to­ry, as illus­trat­ed by the loom­ing flood of the Tigris Riv­er in 2018. The river’s flood­gates are set to open, bring­ing with it the inun­da­tion of the once-dry, bar­ren land that is about to be sub­merged. The ris­ing water lev­el will even­tu­al­ly cov­er Cas­trum Kefa, an ancient city with a rich his­to­ry, caus­ing it to be lost beneath the swelling reser­voir. Zaleekhah, one of the cen­tral fig­ures in the sto­ry, reflects on the sor­row­ful fate of the city. She con­tem­plates how this tragedy sym­bol­izes the con­stant ebb and flow of time, where civ­i­liza­tions rise and fall with the water. As the flood approach­es, the impend­ing loss feels sym­bol­ic of the broad­er forces of nature that shape human his­to­ry, often with­out mer­cy or regard for what has come before.

As Zaleekhah and her com­pan­ion Nen dis­cuss the changes hap­pen­ing around them, the con­ver­sa­tion turns towards envi­ron­men­tal issues, such as the destruc­tion of habi­tats for soft-shelled tur­tles. Zaleekhah, deeply con­nect­ed to the nat­ur­al world, shares her con­cerns about how the chang­ing land­scape impacts not just the ani­mals, but peo­ple as well. She reflects on her strained rela­tion­ship with her fam­i­ly, par­tic­u­lar­ly her uncle and aunt, after mak­ing the dif­fi­cult deci­sion to sup­port her friend Helen’s need for an organ dona­tion. Despite the emo­tion­al toll and the estrange­ment she now faces from her rel­a­tives, Zaleekhah remains com­mit­ted to find­ing anoth­er donor for Helen, under­scor­ing her ded­i­ca­tion to help­ing those she loves. This inner con­flict empha­sizes the com­plex emo­tions Zaleekhah grap­ples with, bal­anc­ing her respon­si­bil­i­ty to oth­ers with the per­son­al sac­ri­fices she must make.

The jour­ney con­tin­ues as Zaleekhah and Nen vis­it an old ceme­tery, where they find a young girl named Nar­in mourn­ing her ances­tors. Nar­in, who was trag­i­cal­ly bought from a deal­er with ties to ISIS for $3,200, rep­re­sents the deep scars left on the Yazi­di peo­ple due to the vio­lence and dis­place­ment they’ve endured. As Zaleekhah and Nen watch from a dis­tance, they feel a mix of com­pas­sion and help­less­ness, know­ing that Narin’s pain is not just root­ed in loss but also in the cul­tur­al geno­cide her peo­ple have suf­fered. Nar­in is left with the absence of her beloved Grand­ma Besma, and she strug­gles with uncer­tain­ty about her father’s fate. Still, there’s a flick­er of hope with­in her as she looks for­ward to a poten­tial reunion with her rel­a­tives in Ger­many, though she is unaware of the com­pli­ca­tions that lie ahead. The emo­tion­al weight of this scene is pal­pa­ble, under­scor­ing the dif­fi­cul­ty of recov­ery and the chal­lenge of heal­ing from such pro­found trau­ma.

As the trio approach­es Nar­in, a faint trust is sparked with­in her when she notices Zaleekhah’s wrist tat­too, which resem­bles one her grand­moth­er used to wear. This sub­tle con­nec­tion marks a small but sig­nif­i­cant moment in the sto­ry, hint­ing at the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a shared under­stand­ing between these two women from dif­fer­ent walks of life. The three women then head back to their hotel, where they encounter a strange tomb­stone inscrip­tion that fur­ther deep­ens the sense of mys­tery and intrigue that sur­rounds their jour­ney. This unex­pect­ed dis­cov­ery serves as a reminder that his­to­ry, even in its final moments, often leaves behind clues and sym­bols that chal­lenge us to con­sid­er what has been lost and what may still remain.

The nar­ra­tive con­cludes with a reflec­tive med­i­ta­tion on the imper­ma­nence of time and cul­tur­al iden­ti­ty. As the waters of the Tigris pre­pare to flood Mesopotamia, tomor­row will wit­ness the sub­mer­sion of ancient lands and civ­i­liza­tions. Yet, even in the face of such loss, there is an under­cur­rent of hope—suggesting that rebirth may arise from destruc­tion. The sym­bol­ism of the snowflake falling on an inno­cent child in Lon­don, rep­re­sent­ing an eter­nal con­nec­tion to the rivers that flow through his­to­ry, rein­forces this theme of con­ti­nu­ity. It sug­gests that, despite the cycles of loss and regen­er­a­tion, human con­nec­tions and mem­o­ries endure, car­ried through time by the very waters that shape the world.