Shaimaa’s father could not hold her hand on her wedding day.

We are living what we are reporting: fear, loss, displacement, hunger, danger.

My brother and I used to scare ourselves by watching horror movies. Now we are living one.

Behind every completed task is a story of a struggle, persistence, and pain.  

My cousin’s experience of injury and partial recovery, of despair and renewed hope, is emblematic of so many stories from Gaza today.

Throughout 18 months of displacement, and miles of walking between cities and refugee camps, I wore the same painful shoes.

My sister Islam, who shared my love of tape recording, was diligent, patient, and far brighter than me.

I am not even allowed to go back to see what has become of my house and school.

Once again, we are back to asking ourselves all of the same questions: Should we stay or should we leave? Now or later?

Identifying the bodies of returned resistance fighters was deeply distressing for family members and loved ones.

The computer was very useful for taking exams, attending online lectures, and downloading materials, but it was less important than paying tuition.

Gaza City’s great buildings have been turned into ruins, but I keep them alive in a memory of a tour my family took just before the war.