I never dreamed of traveling beyond the borders of my beautiful city, which I love like a close friend, and which loves me like an orphaned child. My beautiful Gaza, I tell you now from my place in sister Egypt that I miss you very much, my beloved in mourning. I have spent seven months away from you, my sweet, and they have been the hardest and most painful months of my life. I didn’t know that these days would be even harsher than the seven months I spent under the machine of death and destruction, which continues even now as I write to you, my dear.

Oh, beautiful land, you are too small to endure all this injustice and oppression. You are more beautiful than all this silence that kills. I don't know what everyone wants from a small city that has been under siege for 15 years, a city that has suffered and persevered before Israel's guillotine for many years. You have withstood all these hardships like an impenetrable dam. You resisted all that sorrow and healed yourself every time your children were killed. You turned yourself into a symbol of knowledge and faith.

Your youth are distinguished by high morals and academic achievements. Your streets are radiant, where the soul speaks before the tongue, where our spirits hover like sad, wounded birds despite all the siege, destruction, and killing over the past years. You are not like those streets that the people of Paris boast about. Your food is tastier and more delicious than all the food I’ve eaten since I left the famine on April 5, 2023. Everything about you is beautiful, my beloved.

I miss hearing those musical morning sounds, the sounds of the birds I used to leave water and food for in front of my grandmother's window, may God have mercy on her, every morning. I miss hearing the sound of the dawn call to prayer, which used to be my morning alarm, the voice of the sheikh who woke me up every morning, now under God's care.

Many small details, I can’t practice them freely in this place. They don’t taste the same as they did with you, my beloved. Gaza, you are within us, in our souls, in our breaths. We will never leave you, no matter how hard the days get and how far the distances separate us.

The family is gone, friends have gone. I remain alone, battling these days. I have endured 376 days of pain and oppression, and I still wake up every morning to new pains. I wake up feeling my soul is about to give out from the intensity of the pain. I see my room, my grandmother, hear their voices in my ears, and wait for their calls. It is separation...

8,952 hours of sorrow that grips the heart. We made the whole world weep for our wound.