In a corner of life worn down by siege, an elderly woman stands trembling from exhaustion, carrying on her shoulders long years of pain and disappointment. She leans on her cane, her companion for two decades—almost like a lifelong friend—never leaving her side as she moves among the rubble of memories and the shards of what little hope remains. In her eyes, a tear falls uninvited, and in her voice, a fracture that echoes the sound of wind passing through a windowless home.

Beside her sits a woman from Gaza, a young soul drained by war, carrying its weight on her back with nothing but patience and faith to strengthen the fragility of her day. The two share a silence that screams at the world: how much pain can one endure? How much deprivation must be buried in silence? And when the elderly woman finally speaks, her voice trembles with a prayer that splits the sky—not for food, but for mercy to gather the scattered pieces of their lives.

A life lived, with only a cane to lean on.

The old woman reflects on herself, whispering about a life that once offered her a roof and familiar faces she loved. Now, all that remains is her cane and a stranger who shares her misery. Inwardly she wonders: “Is this the reward for a long life? Or do hardships make no distinction between the old and the young, so long as all have become fuel for a merciless war?”

Despite her frailty, she still raises her hands to the sky, murmuring words of reassurance, as if comforting herself before anyone else: “God forgets no one... God is more merciful than all people.” That faith alone keeps her grounded—a hidden strength that holds her heart together each time it threatens to fall apart, planting within her a small hope that tomorrow might be gentler than today.

In an unforgettable human moment, the elderly woman leans on the shoulder of the woman from Gaza—a scene that needs no words. Only silent tears fall, and a patience shared between two strangers brought together by war and separated by life. And from beneath the wreckage, a pure humanity emerges—proof that in some hearts, neither famine nor bullets can conquer compassion.