Under a sky heavy with rain and winter cold, a displaced Palestinian woman sits in front of her worn tent in Gaza City, lighting a fire to heat a small pot, while children with weary eyes gather around her, waiting for warmth that never comes. A simple scene in its details, yet one that captures the harshness of a life imposed on thousands of families who found themselves with no shelter but fabric.

The tent is no longer just a temporary refuge; it has become a harsh home that offers no protection from the cold or the rain. With every winter night, children’s suffering doubles, as water seeps into the ground and cold penetrates their small bodies that have yet to know the meaning of safety.

In her silence, the woman seems to say that the fire she lights is not only for cooking food, but a final attempt to spread warmth in her children’s hearts. Motherhood here is a daily act of resistance, embodied in long patience and a constant effort to shield children from the cruelty of an unforgiving reality.

Since the outbreak of the war, most of Gaza’s residents have been displaced, many of them forced to flee more than once, carrying with them what remains of memories and hope. With the spread of tent camps, winter has become an additional challenge threatening the lives of thousands, amid a severe shortage of heating means and basic necessities.

This image is not the story of one woman alone, but a mirror of the suffering of an entire people standing against cold, hunger, and fear. Between the small flames and the sound of rain, a profound human question is born: how long will these children continue to wait for warmth that does not come?