‘I want to read and write. That is my future. I want to be an astronaut, to fly above all this.’
My two childhood companions were martyred within a day of each other. Where is humanity? Where is global conscience?
In 1948, my grandfather fled with only a bag of clothes. Last year he fled again—paralyzed, in a wheelchair, and carried aloft by his family.
Ahmed Abu-Aljidian may be blind, but he can picture himself thriving at a university abroad.
My mother screamed with joy, my father said “Alhamdulillah,” and we children clapped and danced for the sake of a single small cylinder.
I used to love cold, wet weather. Now it destroys everything I love and brings only distress.
On my third trip to the city, everything felt different—strange, suffocating, and heavy.
Each night I wrap myself in her, begging her / not to abandon me on this long dark road.
Hassan Eslaiah was the 215th journalist to be assassinated since October 7, 2023, in a flagrant violation of international humanitarian law.
Lamia Hatem, who founded the first school for the children of martyrs in Gaza, is both mother and teacher to her students.
A mobile app payment system is a strange contradiction to the primitive way we are still forced to live after the ‘ceasefire.’
For my friend, every step of the wedding ritual was recreated despite the losses and the constraints imposed by war.
