This winter I decided to visit thrift shops in Gaza City, a place where there are no paths left to tread.
I carried the heavy burden of motherhood on my shoulders. My son, Zakaria, 3, needed a warm pair of pants, but my pockets were empty.
I passed by stores selling impossibly expensive new clothes. A winter pajama set for my child cost more than $100! How can a family barely able to secure food even think of such money?
So I turned to the second-hand shops, the refuge of Gaza’s poor, where we search among used clothes for warmth to shield us from the merciless cold.
These shops, where fabrics are pages of unfinished stories, have become a sanctuary for many here. Standing before piles of clothes stacked haphazardly, we sift through a sea of garments that have traveled from distant places – clothes that have lived other lives, perhaps carrying dreams of people we’ll never meet……more