When the attacks resumed, her home was bombed, and her books vanished under debris…. "I used to study in my room with colored pens and sticky notes," she said. "Now, I write on scraps of paper from aid boxes.”

She knows the hum of drones more than the tune of a lullaby. She has learned to run when the ground shakes….“I want balloons, Mama… and no planes.”

To Ms. Ghada, who planted hope and saw in me a student worth listening to, you will never be forgotten. Your voice echoes in every word I write today.

The Zionist leadership rejected persecuted, disabled, destitute, sick, diseased and elderly Jews because they were persecuted, disabled, destitute, sick, diseased and elderly. This is the eugenist history of Zionism, in brief.

Abu Waleed is a 42-year-old father of four who lost both legs in an airstrike while waiting for flour in an aid distribution site. “My youngest daughter, who is 8, thinks I’m hiding my legs for fun,” he told Palestine Nexus. “I can’t bring myself to tell her this is forever.”

One of the parents added: “He comes back singing songs. He draws pictures. He tells me about the games. At home, he had no energy. Marah Kindergarten gives him life again.”

“Every story I write feels like a battle for survival. I’ve written from the ruins, from tents, from places where electricity and the internet are miracles. Sometimes, I walked for hours under the burning sun because transportation was too expensive, and because silence was not an option.”

As the hours passed, snippets of news suggested positive developments, but there was still a lot of uncertainty. Then, at around 2 a.m., there it was: “The ceasefire will take effect at noon today!” a Telegram message read.

Every day, Aldalee wakes up at 7 A.M. He rides his bicycle, sometimes for ten hours straight, to deliver aid to different parts of Gaza, bought with donations from across the world through his Instagram account…

We stayed there for about 18 hours, not knowing what would happen to us. No contact with our families or anyone. We were exhausted, sitting on the ground, packed together. No food. No water. We were drained

The Zionist leadership opted not for Jewish prosperity but for Jewish suffering in which child holocaust survivors served as sacrificial lambs on the altar of Zionism.

I am writing this not only to tell you Gaza is suffering. I write to give a second life to those that have been martyred.

When the war forced our family to flee from Al-twam in northern Gaza to Khanyounis in the south, I carried him on my shoulders and walked over 13 kilometers, under bombing, fear, and thirst…”

“Suddenly, the Israeli soldiers opened heavy fire on us. People ran in every direction, but I couldn’t give up. I needed that flour.” … “I saw the final trailer coming. I pushed forward, fighting my way through the crowd…

She says, “We’ll bake bread tomorrow,” even when there is no flour. She says, “The windows are broken because we wanted more air,” even though that’s not why. She says, “The baby is sleeping,” even though the baby is gone.

I saw the bodies of the slain journalists brought to Al-Shifa Hospital on August 11. The air inside was thick with grief as their bodies lay side by side, marked by the brutal violence they had been reporting on. Their features still bore the resolve that characterized their resilience

"Whenever I transfer $100 from PayPal to a Bank of Palestine account, 14% of that money is paid to the owner of the PayPal account," Al-Ghoz told Palestine Nexus. To withdraw the remaining $86 in cash, he has to pay a commission of 40% to cash brokers in Gaza….”

As they were digging, a whistling noise veered past us … A shell landed just meters away between us and the grave diggers. They ran without looking back. I saw the body, still halfway out of the grave, as if it, too, realized it would not be permitted to rest.

On the ground, we found the aid boxes in the open arranged in a line as Israeli soldiers watched us … They occasionally shot warning shots between our legs, not to scatter us, since we followed their every instruction, but to humiliate us.

Finding food is a daily battle. Since their mother’s death, meals have dwindled from three a day to barely one. Now it’s a meal every other day. At the time of writing, the family had only 2 kilos of flour left.