Vivirte cada día, como quien sabe que el sol vendrá, aunque aún no hayas visto su resplandor.
Porque yo fui marea antes que océano y me haces dudar cuando te quedas en la orilla, dejándome devastada por dentro, sin atreverte a sobrevivir al temporal.
Y aún sigo creyendo que algún día entrarás al agua y entenderás que no era tormenta, sino vida.
And while this is happening while people are buried under rubble, while children freeze in tents, while entire families vanish overnight powerful men sit comfortably and present plans for a “New Gaza.”
Clean slides. Perfect buildings. Investment numbers. A future imagined without the people who are currently being erased.
They talk about peace while bombs are still falling. They talk about rebuilding while destruction is ongoing. They draw maps over land that is soaked with blood and call it hope.
The ceasefire is a lie.
What’s happening is ethnic cleansing, repackaged with the language of development and diplomacy. You cannot build a “new” city by destroying the people who belong to it. You cannot promise a future while actively killing the present.
This isn’t peace. It’s violence with better branding.
Today, three journalists were killed in a single airstrike.
Not soldiers. Not fighters. Journalists. People who believed that if they kept documenting, if they kept filming, if they kept writing, the world would eventually care.
In Gaza, telling the truth has become one of the most dangerous things you can do. Holding a camera is treated like holding a weapon. Every photo risks your life. Every report could be your last.
They had names. Families. People waiting for them to come home. They were not numbers, and they were not mistakes. They were silenced because truth is inconvenient, because images expose what statements try to hide.
When journalists are killed, it’s not just lives that are lost it’s evidence. It’s memory. It’s the last barrier between reality and denial.
…
Donations for GAZA
This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I’m distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I’m terrified of losing.
They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.
If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.
🔗 This is a verified Chuffed campaign to support family:
Campaign Update
If you can’t donate, please reblog. Visibility is sometimes the only protection we have left.❤️
Some accounts are tagged to help people see this campaign. It’s not spam. If you don’t want to participate, simply scroll.
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