In the middle of the road, which is inhabited by pain, where the remnants of memories scatter across the walls of the destroyed city, an elderly man stands, aimlessly wandering, his gaze lost in the distant horizon, filled with despair and regret.

His steps are heavy, as if the earth itself is hindering his forward movement, yet his heart still beats. He treads the path that has borne witness to countless stories of suffering and bloodshed, searching through the rubble for something to remind him of a life that was once more beautiful.

In his eyes, the wars collide, and the days that still chase him seem endless. His voice is lost in the rush of the fierce winds that lash at the dead trees and the shattered buildings.

The Regret of the Past

The elderly man walks as if each step opens new doors to memories. At every corner, he stops, lamenting the days when joy and hope filled Gaza, when it was a land thriving with life, before it was consumed by endless wars and never-ending tragedies. Yet, he continues to resist, despite the hunger gnawing at his bones and the shadow of oppression chasing him. He moves forward along this long road, despite the wrinkles of despair on his face. He stands, questioning: "Will this sorrow never end?"

At times, in moments of deep silence, he lifts his eyes to the pale sky, whispering words that only his wounded heart can hear: "Will we ever live to see peace? Or is this road to be our fate forever?" But soon, he reassures himself with the only truth that the days have worn into him: "Patience is my weapon, and it will not fail me." And he moves on, even though the road ahead is long, and the future uncertain. With each new step, the elderly man carries with him remnants of hope, which only those who have lived in the heart of pain can truly see.