War changed the meaning of sound for this Lebanese Palestinian: I have left my home and city, but fear does not leave me.
When the city around us was under siege, my friends and I would escape into a video world.
I borrow equipment from my reporting colleagues so that I can get close to sources and protect myself from shrapnel.
Officially appointed and experienced teachers struggle to find work, contribute their knowledge, and survive in Gaza.
Israel’s destruction inside Gaza is forcing displaced people to share rudimentary, unhygienic bathrooms.
My brother built a video game, No Safe Street, that reflects our reality inside Gaza.
The occupation’s siege of Gaza has made it nearly impossible to obtain the diesel, motor oil, and replacement parts needed to keep vehicles running.
Israel’s destruction of Gaza crushed my reading and exercise routines — but now I am reclaiming them.
What happens when the documents proving ownership of our home are destroyed, along with our home?
In exile in Egypt, I carry Gaza within me wherever I go, but I do not know where I can safely plant my roots.
He receives his math lesson in a space where students and displaced families are crowded together.
Returning home, I stopped, not because of any barrier but because of a feeling that I was about to cross into a place that no longer belonged to the living.
