CIRCLE WITH A DOT

@sallytheflame Thank you for what you are doing for me. I’m grateful to you.

On Gaza’s Hospital Beds… A War That Never Ends

When you walk into a hospital in Gaza, you do not only see patients…
You see the faces of a war that is still alive, even if the sound of shelling has faded and the headlines have stopped speaking about it.

Here, within these cold walls, other wars continue to unfold;
silent wars the world cannot hear, yet they are far crueler than the noise of explosions.
It is a war that leaves its scars on bodies and hearts, then walks away, leaving people alone to face their pain.

Today, I saw a mother who lost her three children,
sitting there exhausted, as though life itself had suddenly drained from her face,
carrying in her chest a heart no longer capable of enduring such unbearable loss.

I saw a wife who lost her husband — the love and companion of her life —
struggling with dangerously high blood pressure that doctors could no longer control,
as if grief itself had become a disease flowing slowly through her veins.

There was also a little girl who lost her eye,
and with it, lost countless dreams she once carried;
small toys, a mirror she may fear looking into for too long,
and innocent hopes that were meant to grow with her, not be buried too soon.

And a child whose legs were amputated,
forced into a wheelchair before he could even learn how to run,
before he could know anything about life except pain.

Every time I look around, a crushing headache overwhelms me,
as though I have suddenly stepped into a horror film.
But the only difference is that what happens here is not fiction…
It is a living reality, painfully clear, breathing suffering every single moment.

Malnutrition exhausting fragile bodies,
heart disease and high blood pressure worsening without treatment,
missing limbs,
and injuries doctors can barely manage because of collapsing resources and impossible conditions.

They fought us with everything.

And today…
the war may appear quieter on the surface, but it still continues within;
inside hospitals, inside homes, and inside people’s souls.

There is not enough medicine,
no possibility of travel for critical patients,
and hospitals can barely handle the endless waves of suffering except for those standing closest to death.

Even the simplest medical tests now consume unimaginable amounts of money and time.
So what about those who need complex surgeries, continuous care, or medications that no longer exist at all?

And despite all of this…
many still choose to ignore our suffering,
as though this pain is not real,
or as though Gaza was created to endure sorrow alone.

Family support link️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493


#Gaza #Palestine

@marion_v Thank you, my friend. I’m grateful to you.

This is not an ordinary place…
It is a prison I was forced to remain in,
its walls unseen, yet they tighten around my chest more and more each day.
Everything within it makes me feel as though I am slowly losing myself instead of healing.

Outwardly, I may not look like someone fighting a fatal illness,
but some symptoms are far beyond what I can endure,
beyond the strength I try to hold onto every single day.

I am suffering from a new ulcer,
and from a severe drop in my blood levels,
a drop that steals my consciousness again and again,
leaving me facing terrifying moments where my vital signs deteriorate without mercy.

What truly frightens me most
is not the pain itself…
but the repeated fainting spells,
that cruel feeling that my body may fail me at any moment.

I need help from anyone who is able to offer it, and I sincerely ask you not to hesitate.
Please share my post.

I am deeply grateful to you all..

My support link️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
@gvenema
@maltita @Shibanarchiste
@mynameistillian
@vega

#Gaza
#Palestine

I am Nada from Gaza City.
Could you please share my post?

I am writing these words amid difficult circumstances affecting my family of seven, after losing our work and home, alongside a deterioration in my health, in addition to the injury of my children’s father.

I am sharing my story as it is, with all its challenges, in the hope that it reaches someone who can help ease this burden, offer support, or even help spread the word.

I believe that humanity is still present, and that in every difficult situation there are those who stand by it in one way or another.

I rarely receive donations except through my support link for me and my family.

Grateful to you.
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
#Gaza
#Palestine

I am Nada from Gaza, and I am reaching out to you in urgent and difficult humanitarian circumstances.

I am responsible for a family that has lost its home and source of income. The father of my children is suffering from a severe eye injury; he has lost sight in one eye, and the other is significantly damaged.

In addition, I am currently facing a health condition that requires urgent and immediate treatment that cannot be delayed.

During the past week, I was only able to receive 91 dollars, which is not enough to cover even the basic necessities or medical expenses.

I am truly grateful to everyone who is able to offer help or share my situation

Link to support my family:️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
@Shibanarchiste
@chielk
@la_voix
@mbletmathe
@aismallard
@gvenema
@sol
@RobertoArchimboldi
#Gaza
#Palestine

Absent Things

What hurts most in this war is not only what has been taken from us, but what has quietly faded away from the simple details of life we once took for granted.
Before it, I had a fully equipped home: from a coffee machine that brought warmth to my mornings, to a dishwasher that spared me the exhaustion of a long day. It was an ordinary life… or so I thought.

Today, I find myself forced back into a primitive life—one that does not resemble us in any way, nor reflect who we once were.
A life where even the most basic rights are measured by the amount of effort and pain they require.

My doctor advises me to take regular hot baths and drink herbal remedies to ease the pain of stomach ulcers, alongside a long list of medications.
But what many fail to see… is that this “simple right” is not simple here.

When I think of having a hot bath, I must first light a fire with my own hands, endure the smoke filling my chest with coughing and pain, and drain what little strength I have left.
And when the pain intensifies, and I think of a warm drink to soothe it, reaching it becomes another exhausting journey beyond my capacity.

I do not know if there are people in this world who truly feel what we are going through.
We are not only losing our homes—we are losing our health, our strength, and our dignity in harsh labor that does not suit bodies weakened by illness, nor souls worn down by waiting.

Three years of suffering have changed us—made us weaker than we once were, and more in need of things that have become out of reach.

Even when we think of easing our burden—like buying gas—we are met with a harsher reality, where high costs stand as a barrier between us and the bare minimum of comfort.

A question keeps echoing in my mind:
Does anyone feel us?
And why have so many turned their backs on us, leaving us alone in this suffering?

I am one of many who continue to write, to speak, to try to make our voices heard…
But sadly, those voices vanish into emptiness.
No donations, no response, no helping hand.

Must we cry and beg day and night just to obtain our right to treatment?
To food?
To care for our children?

Even clean water… has become a distant dream.

My support link️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
@aral
@fabio

#Gaza
#Palestine

@loubadour Thank you, my friend.

This is what I was able to collect during a week, despite my great need for it
And over three weeks I managed to collect only about 150 dollars.

I ask anyone who is able to help to offer it, no matter how small it may be.
Here is the support link for me and my family️️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493

#Gaza
#Palestine

Between “I’m Fine” and the Truth of What’s Breaking Inside

The phrase that unsettles those around me the most, that weighs heavily on their ears, is my saying: I’m fine.
A sentence that seems fleeting, yet convinces no one… not even me. As if it were a linguistic mask I wear whenever I fail to explain what is breaking inside me.

In this war, the blows were not rare; they were continuous and harsh, striking the soul before the body.
We lost so much… in fact, we lost something deeper than loss itself. Our shock in some people was greater than what the mind can comprehend; we saw faces fall away from their masks, and others reshape themselves into strange versions, even to their own owners.

We lived through famine, displacement, and deprivation, until pain was no longer an exception but a daily companion, part of our smallest details.
And amid all this, traits we never knew in people awakened: greed spread, betrayal was exposed, and selfishness grew—not as passing traits, but as deep wounds that silently tore our social fabric apart.

I have endured many breakdowns, and crises have become entangled around me until my possibilities were suffocated.
And yet… I kept trying.
Not for myself alone, but for my children, for those under my care, for eyes that depend on me for stability and safety. I resisted my weakness, because my weakness is not a personal matter; when I bend, the small world I carry on my shoulders loses its balance.

Gaza was not destroyed only in its buildings and infrastructure, and the loss was not merely material—something deeper was broken: our bonds, our trust, and the warmth of our relationships that used to mend us whenever we fractured.

At the heart of this chaos:
the strong is not the one who does not feel pain,
but the one who can hold himself together in the storm and manage his losses as best as he can.
Weakness, on the other hand, is not a tear or a pain—it is losing one’s compass and harming oneself and those around them.

That is why…
when I say “I’m fine,” those around me are disturbed.
Because they see what I cannot say, and feel what I hide behind my silence.

But the truth I cannot afford to deny is:
even if I am not fine
I must appear so,
I must appear completely fine,
for the sake of those I love.

A support link for my family️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
#Gaza
#Palestine
From the last photos I took in my office before the war.

@loubadour Thank you, your presence means a lot to me.

Absent Meanings

In recent days, a bitter certainty has taken root within me: that those who survive genocide do not emerge from it as they once were; survival itself leaves behind a hidden void in the soul—one that cannot be seen, yet is deeply felt.

I survived genocide, yet my survival was not complete. I found myself facing an illness with no clear origin, as if it were an extension of what has accumulated within—of the weight of experience and the harshness of what we have endured.

Last night was so painful that I believed its end might be my own end as well. I went through a severe relapse, during which I felt, for moments, as if my soul was being silently pulled away, as if life were gently and painfully slipping from me, beyond resistance.

I fell asleep, and the last thing on my mind was my loved ones, and how I might leave them behind in this world. I fell asleep believing it might be my final sleep.

Today, I realize that simply remaining until this moment is not something ordinary, but closer to a quiet, inexplicable miracle.

I write these words not in search of pity, but in search of sincere support, warm solidarity, and a humane word that might help me continue on this path.

Whoever is able to offer support, I ask them not to hesitate. For a week now, I have received no support.

Support link for my family️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
#Gaza
#Palestine

@shad

@Hirundo_sylvatica Thank you for your kind feelings.

The homes are no longer as they were, and neither are their people as we once knew them… as if everything had been extinguished in a single moment, leaving behind a silence that does not resemble life.

That place was never just a passing job; it was a whole life breathing with us. We lived its small details as if they were extra years added to our own, giving it from our souls as much as it gave us of its existence. Every corner carried a hidden pulse, every morning held a new story, until we no longer knew where the place ended and where we began.

I used to feel that my presence there had meaning, that I left a trace not seen by the eye, but felt deep within things… like quiet footsteps written into the memory of walls, remaining after their people have left, whispering that they once passed by here.

And I had a companion on the path who never left my side, working beside me…
a brother before being a colleague, a friend before being a support,
a shoulder when everything grew heavy, and a quiet reassurance that slipped through the noise of days, restoring balance to the soul when it tilted.

But war… left nothing as it was.
It spared neither the work as it once was, nor the companion of that place, nor those small details that once gave life its meaning and hidden warmth. It scattered what days had gathered with long patience.

The place has gone in its original form, and with it went people who once gave it its soul… and we remain, carrying a heavy memory that cannot be spoken, trying only to remember without breaking further.

Forgive us when we weaken, when patience breaks within us for a moment;
for what we carry is greater than words can say, heavier than can be told, and deeper than language can ever do justice to…

#Gaza
#Palestine

@also

@Hirundo_sylvatica Thank you for your kind words.

@RFancio Thank you for your kindness and support.
Please keep me in your prayers.

Hello,

I write these words with a heart heavy with what cannot be said, and a voice nearly suffocated between fear and pain. For days, I have been appealing in silent anguish, searching for a glimmer of hope—for a hand to reach out to me at a moment when I am close to breaking… but sadly, I have found no way to receive help. No one has come forward to help me.

I am going through one of the hardest experiences a person can endure—my family and I—because of my health condition, which has left us with nothing but anxiety, exhaustion, and disappointment. I try so hard to stay strong, to appear resilient, to not be a burden on anyone… but the truth is, I am weaker than I seem, and in far greater need than I can express.

I never wanted to write this… but when hardship becomes overwhelming, it breaks every sense of pride and forces us to turn to hearts we hope will show mercy.

If anyone among you is able to extend a helping hand, I am in desperate need of it today… and if that is not possible, please do not hesitate to share this post, in the hope that it may reach someone who can help and become a reason to save me from this hardship.

Perhaps a word, a share, even a small gesture… could mean life to me.

Grateful to every heart that reads, feels, and cares..

My family’s link️️️
https://gofund.me/83e09b493
#Gaza
#Palestine

Life continues its rituals of breaking us with precise coldness, as if it takes greater care in crafting pain than in offering any meaning of mercy. Breaks are born from breaks, and loss drags behind it another loss—heavier, wider, more merciless—until the heart becomes burdened beyond its capacity to endure, exhausted to the point where nothing remains but a fading shadow of a once-living pulse.

Have we carried our souls with enough sins to deserve such a level of fading? Or does pain not need a justification at all, and is our mere existence sufficient to be a silent reason for this endless fracture?

We have drained the road of everything we had left, and even the desire to continue has dimmed. There is no strength to move forward, no energy to endure, as if life has turned into a heavy burden we neither know how to lift nor how to escape.

Are we truly that flawed… or were we simply born into a time that does not resemble our souls, and does not grant us even the right to peace?
#Gaza
#Palestine