In Gaza, no sound is heard except the echo of pain, and no scent is smelled but that of hunger mixed with fear. Here, nothing resembles life except the breaths of children who go out with the first light of dawn, racing the sun in search of something to eat—a dry piece of bread, or scraps of food that do not satisfy hunger but at least greet the empty stomachs.

In this forgotten corner of the world, childhood seems like a crime, and asking for food a sin. You see a child no older than seven carrying an empty bag, searching through the garbage for something “fit to survive,” while his eyes say more than hearts can bear of sorrow.

Life strangled in Gaza

Some sleep on empty stomachs, and some cry in the arms of a mother who has nothing but silence and prayers. A mother who tries to hide her weakness before her children, smiles despite the hunger, and tells them a story about a “better tomorrow,” while knowing that tomorrow may never come.

All this happens while Tel Aviv’s brutal policies continue to strangle what remains of life in Gaza—blocking food, besieging medicine, and closing the doors of hope. Hunger here is not just a lack of food, but a deliberate policy, a slow massacre.

The humanitarian catastrophe is growing, and the scene is almost unbearable: children thin as sticks, pale faces, eyes begging for life but finding none. The images coming out of there are not only shocking but devastating—they pierce the international silence yet stir no movement.

Today, Gaza is not just a spot on the map... it is an open wound in humanity’s conscience.