nside my head, I own a world full of diverse types of lives, all shapes, colors, wonders, answers to all questions and questions to all answers. 

The sound of Fairuz’s voice singing rises higher and higher, as she chants “we shall return one day to our neighbourhood”.

Have you ever heard of a people who do not cry over their dead as much as they cry their living? Those are us…

In the forty third morning of the war on Gaza… A morning of dignity from the proud and resilient Gaza…

I was writing to you yesterday, on the forty seventh day, on the details of the daily struggle after they took us ages back in time to where we use the oldest and most primitive tools to get by…