At the end of the road I see you, standing tall. Why are you fading?

I told myself that the loss of a home wasn’t comparable to the loss of beloved people. But I was lying.

Leaving Gaza saved my life, but now I live the agony of distance, and the stench of death reaches me even here.

Denied an airport, Gazans must endure a long and brutal land journey to cross their border.

What would happen if the Palestinian narrative lacked misery? Would we still be creative?

Another bomb explodes. Sharpnel flies. Another home collapses. Another martyr leaves without farewell.

“Some doubted that my business would succeed. But the customers keep growing and keep coming back.”

An Israeli bombardment thwarted our hopes for a larger family.

My family will replace the trees destroyed by Israeli missiles, but we cannot reclaim the years spent nurturing them.

Graduation day for my sister, a new doctor, was supposed to bring joyous celebration. Instead we spent it under attack.

This place, where a wall can burst in, a table fly and spin, glass shatter faster than a flinch?

Palestinian artist Timaa Hassan creates art that can be touched as well as seen.