In the rest of the world, marrying means beginning a happy and secure new chapter. For Gazans, every month is a continuation of grief and instability.
Once again, we are back to asking ourselves all of the same questions: Should we stay or should we leave? Now or later?
For my friend, every step of the wedding ritual was recreated despite the losses and the constraints imposed by war.
He and she spoke by phone / the night before their wedding / certain their heartbeats/ could end the war/ the endless bombardment, the screams.
To wait or not to wait to get married? That is the question for young people in Gaza.
My love, why are you silent? / Are you truly never coming back?
Poverty first deprived Hanan of her husband, and then the war on Gaza made their separation indefinite.
On the fronds of a fruitful palm tree, I used to dance with my beloved / after we were brought together by the coincidence of spring.
The war has taken away the audio rhythm of our lives.
A young woman enjoys only a fleeting marriage before the war destroys her and the happiness of her family.
His fiancée’s steadfastness helped Khaled Al-Zard recover after an Israeli bomb destroyed his shop and his dreams.
Gaza has become the city where happiness is snatched away without warning, where love and death walk hand in hand.
