Even a four-year-old would rather fight the occupation than leave Gaza for a safer place.
We Are Not Numbers mourns the death of a beloved friend, colleague, and family member.
Bitterness gnaws at my soul as I long for safe shelter, warmth, a cup of coffee and the routine melody of life.
I used to love walking along this street, greeting people. Now, I’m terrified I’ll step on a dead body.
Following the news of the destruction of Al-Mukabarat Towers in northwest Gaza, I realize: memories don’t die; they just get hurt.
Even as the brutal Israeli retaliation began, I wanted nothing more than to return to my home and family in Gaza City.
There is no such thing as a safe place in Gaza. Everyone and everything is targeted.
Even when we Gazans are no longer experiencing war, it continues to live in us.
Repeated Israeli aggressions take a terrible toll on the mental health of Gazan children.
I lost my loved ones / I lost my power, hope, dreams / and my last tears.
Should I be thankful for a four-day reprieve/ when what we need is for/ the bombing to stop and our people to be free
I apologize to international lawyers and activists.... / I apologize to God..../ I apologize to the truth....