I love the early morning; I wake up early every day to seek my livelihood, watch the rays of hope emerging from the sun before it fully rises, and listen to the chirping of birds that fills my heart with a sense of hope, making me optimistic… perhaps it will be a good morning for us. Many houses around me are destroyed and scarred, and the streets are worn out. The scene before me seems to narrate its sorrow to me. I see that people have accepted all this sadness and misery in the city in exchange for peace to prevail once again in Gaza and across the entire world.

I try to say that Gaza is not just a bleeding wound; it is a spirit that refuses to be broken. Even in its darkest hours, Gaza knows how to gather its shattered pieces and whisper to the world that it is still here, and that there is something beautiful worth telling.