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.
In Gaza after the October 10 ceasefire, the suffering has not ended; it only changed shape.
A new year, / they say. / But here— / it’s an alarm. / Not hope. / Not renewal.
After a year, the body of Santa is / still under the rubble along with / his bag of gifts and the list of names / of the children.
‘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.
