Yasmine here… miraculously spared by the angel of death after the shelling of the past few days, next to which we had never seen before.

sole night spent at the hospital was enough to realize that dying under the rubble of our home was much easier than staying only for a few hours at the hospital. The plan was to head to the hospital on foot as a first stop so we can find some cars to take us to the supposedly safe south. 

I have an 11-year-old son. He is my eldest boy. He loves me very much and wants nothing more in life than to be like me. Rowdy-dowdy and fun-loving, just like me! He even mimics my humorous style and watches how I make his mother laugh.

This war is not like any

previous war, at least not for me. Wars and aggressions are typical for us. Never did we know peace or security. In the thirty years of my life, I was always known for my strength and tenacity in difficult times. I was always the wise and dependable one in the family, especially caring for my ill mother. But this time is not like every other time.

Wishing there was no night:

The worst time of the day in this savage war is when the sun starts setting, as if the night has been weaponized by the colonizer to instil fear and horror.

Our situation is terror of dying any minute. As much as possible, we portion food and water. Every day, there are long lines for food and drinking water. We don’t know when we feel the wrath of the airplanes as we are filling up our drinking water.

On the seventeenth day of aggression on the Strip, we continue a long journey of looking for a safe place inside or outside our home. You see, after we received messages stressing that we leave our homes and head to the south, we believed that the south is truly the safe place!