A Gazan who travels to Egypt for work purposes finds himself trapped away from family and in anguish about their fate.
From each side of Gaza’s closed border, Danah and Roaa connect via WhatsApp to process the changes in their lives.
Sometimes you have to leave your home, your relatives, even all your precious things, and dare to start again.
I got a call my beloved friend was killed. / May God grant him peace. / I hung up and went to sleep.
To leave the Strip, I left my family, crossed a checkpoint, and spent weeks in a tent. The decision still haunts me.
In a corner of our rented third-story house / Clay stuck to straw / A home for a future family
A new life in Qatar comes with guilt, an inability to enjoy simple things, mourning for what’s lost — and also hope.
My body lives in Turkey, but my mind is in Gaza with my family.
We are preparing for our forced emigration from Gaza to the Sinai Desert, or for our death. One or the other.
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.
Leaving Gaza saved my life, but now I live the agony of distance, and the stench of death reaches me even here.
