In Gaza, I want to live and die.
To die in Gaza these days is not like dying in any other place. In Gaza, you might get a farewell. You might get a grave. You might end up half a body, or just a piece of flesh.
We live in a so-called safe area in Deir al-Balah. Our home has hosted dozens of displaced women and children from different places in Gaza since last October. Though relatively quiet, the area is not safe.
Nothing is safe.
On 2 July, I remember sitting with my siblings, Ahmed, Mahmoud, Asma, and my parents, enjoying tea in our backyard. It was bright and breezy.
My brother, Ahmed, finished his cup and left us. ….more
