BEIRUT — The lost children of Aleppo have come to the bustling Hamra district of Beirut to peddle cigarettes for change. They wander the alleyway bars underneath the towering presence of tourists and drunken teenagers. Lebanon’s newly passed smoking ban has created an outdoor culture that facilitates their vending. It is hard not to notice them, until you notice that no one else seems to.

Amal declares that Lebanon is striking — but, of course, Syria is incomparable in its beauty. She has her hair pulled back, speaking fast and with assurance. Her green eyes immediately draw attention to her stare. It is difficult to regard her as a child, though occasionally she giggles, exposing her concealed youth. My inquiries about where she is from elicit the same response I would later become conditioned to expect: “Halab" (Aleppo).

I’m excited to speak to her. She is the first refugee I sit with, myself fresh out of New York and eager to finally put a face to tragedy. But I begin on the wrong foot. I flood her with questions about her politics, her family’s politics, what she thinks of President Bashar al-Assad, of the Free Syrian Army.

Her response immediately prompts reconsideration on my part. At only 13 years old, Amal answers my questions with questions. Where are you from? Palestine. Then she unleashed on me as I had on her. What are your thoughts on Israel? Hamas? Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas? Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu? Her point is well taken, and I remind myself that she is more than a character in a news story.