DIARY OF A GENOCIDE

The war stole a year and a half of my life, without me knowing whether to flee like a gazelle or stand firm like a wall!
The paint on the crumbling wall formed a strange, absurd symbol of a sitting gazelle.
Every day I stare at those scattered details, as if they were a reflection.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Endless queues, our faces worn with fatigue and despair, we stand patiently, our eyes weary, motionless, our blood running cold as time kills us, passing so slowly.
Our words are too heavy to say about this queue, and we are all united in this scene, social differences fading away.
The sounds of bombing in the background, ambulances and the whispers of fatigue from the elderly flow into our ears with the sound of the wind through the queue.
Our lives have become queues.


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Gaza, the right to live in peace
PALESTINIAN ARTISTS