In the destroyed streets of Gaza, a woman in her fifties walks slowly, feeling her way between the rubble as if searching for the home that has become only a memory. She carries on her shoulders years of exhaustion, and in her heart a mountain of memories that the bombs could not bury, but rather made heavier and more painful. Every shattered stone reminds her of a child’s laughter, or of Eid clothes once hanging on a washing line.

She pauses for a moment before the ruins of her old house, reaching out to a cracked wall as though embracing the remains of her past life. Her tears do not fall easily—pain has long dried them—but her eyes speak what her tongue cannot. In a hoarse voice, she says that what weighs on her heart is not only the loss, but the hunger gnawing at the children of the neighborhood, for there is no longer enough bread or clean water.

Patience multiplied Hunger in Gaza is no longer a fleeting feeling that fades with a piece of bread—it has become a daily wound that deepens the pain. The woman recounts how she often shares a tiny portion of food with her neighbors, dividing it among the children so they might forget their pain for a moment. And with every night that descends in darkness—without electricity, without food—their patience grows heavier, their pain sharper, but still they continue resisting in silence.

An empty plate and a glass of murky water The woman says hunger takes her back to her childhood, when her family’s table was full despite its simplicity. Today, sitting with her children feels different: an empty plate, a glass of cloudy water. Yet she tries to keep hope alive in their eyes. “I don’t want them to know the meaning of defeat,” she whispers, as though convincing herself before convincing them.

And despite the cruelty of hunger and deprivation, this woman keeps walking among the ruins, carrying in her heart an unbreakable faith that tomorrow will be better. She knows hunger may exhaust the body, but it cannot break the spirit. She believes that memories, even when painful, are also fuel that gives her strength to keep standing—proud and unyielding amid the rubble of her city, a living witness to Gaza’s resilience.