Oh, pain upon pain…
I am still writing to you from the displacement tents…
From a story of the elderly to a story of the younger generations…

I write to you for the sake my humanity, for Palestine, and for Gaza. I did not give up on Gaza!

Happy New Year. 
May you remain well every year,
But for us, it feels as if all the years have been at odds with us…

Not my birth certificate, my National number, nor my passport that has the citizenship “Palestinian,” so I am sentenced to death whenever I arrive to any country, Arab or foreign…

We are the people upon whom death is imposed, so we have not the luxury of choice. Options are either quick death or slow death, and they are both bitter as wormwood.

A new night in a series where episodes follow each other without a break. Every episode overshadows the one before in the level of violence and destruction. 

My voice is my only fortune even if I left. My voice will not vanish. I have nothing to loose!

Here is Rafah – the neighborhood of Tal Assultan – and I am only a kilometer away from the Egyptian borders

I haven’t written anything in long days, although the war is still ongoing. Murder continues to ravage our land and overshadow our sky.

Crises and wars are a strange matter. Novel pains are imposed and old wounds open despite efforts to burry and forget about them; at the same time, they bring us together in a unique way.