Poverty first deprived Hanan of her husband, and then the war on Gaza made their separation indefinite.
When my cousins visited Gaza for the first time with my aunt, our joyful reunion quickly turned into a nightmare as war broke out.
To be Palestinian is to carry the weight of lost villages, to inherit a history that is scattered across borders.
In Gaza I clung to life despite the fear and chaos because it felt meaningful. Here I am alive, but life feels hollow.
Again, it is December / Second December / Without stars.
I muse about Gaza, my home, and the things I’ve lost.
Cramped housing, reduced study or job prospects, depleted savings, crushing sorrow: ‘It doesn’t feel like living.’
‘I think about leaving. The idea of not existing flows into the room. It has a blue shady aura. It comes and goes.’
Once upon a time / In a land not so far / A people lived in peace / How pure they truly are!
In Gaza books were my refuge; they had a special smell and distinctly flavored pages that I could taste with my eyes.
Escaping Gaza has been a journey into the unknown, a quest for safety wrapped in pain and guilt. Was I right to leave?
A young woman carries on a correspondence with the land she left and grieves for, and adds a postscript to the world.
