don’t know how, but I feel my heart getting smaller and is losing its strength. Barely beating. Its beats come crazy fast and suddenly I feel it about to stop.

This is the fourth Friday of the war and I am still alive! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, and I cannot assert that I have survived inevitable death.

So I tell myself “It’s Ok, the path has room for everyone.” But it suddenly narrowed for me to the point of suffocation and murder… Were my dreams that big?! 

Looks like there is no escaping death. The occupation army started its invasion of Gaza since nightfall. It was a night that cannot be wiped off our memories.

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…

My husband lit a fire on top of the house, and we made some tea. Everybody woke up, and we had some Zaatar (thyme) and zeit (oil), and those are what was left from our stored food.