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.

Thank God, we are fine.
Every one of us is shattered in every way. It’s traumatic, Dr., I swear to God what is happening to us is traumatic!

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.