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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 names of new borns are written in the population registry, then erased shortly after they are born, rewritten as martyrs.