Gazans succeed in resisting sorrow through the power of will. Gaza stands as a witness to the greatness of a people who defy the horrors of war.

In Gaza, life is not measured by the number of days that pass, but by the number of times Gazans manage to rise from beneath the rubble. Between destroyed buildings and streets that have lost their features, people create the details of their daily lives with hands weighed down by exhaustion and hearts that stubbornly continue to beat. Here, survival is not merely an instinct, but a silent act of resistance and a daily attempt to create meaning for life in a scene that hardly resembles life.

On the edges of neighbourhoods that have turned into piles of stones, children go out to play among dust and the remains of homes, as if declaring their challenge to fear and deprivation. A bicycle, a torn ball, or even a piece of wood turned into a toy is enough to give birth to a shy smile in the middle of pain. In Gaza, children learn early how to create joy out of nothing, and how to condense their small dreams into a moment of running, a jump, or a laugh that defeats the weight of memory.

The burden of absence and the pain of waiting

Women here carry not only the weight of destroyed homes, but also the burden of absence, the pain of waiting and the fear of tomorrow. Yet they continue to bake bread over a weak fire, arrange what remains of their rooms, and create a sense of safety for their children, even if only temporarily. Every cup of tea poured and every simple meal prepared is an unspoken message that life is still possible, even when circumstances seem too harsh to endure.

As for the men, they stand at a crossroads between despair and hope, searching for work in a city that has lost most of its sources of income. Some repair a damaged wall, others carry water, and others try to salvage what can be saved from a shop half destroyed. No one can afford the luxury of giving up — the family is waiting, and the home, even if it is just a tent, needs someone to protect it and to plant within it the idea of continuity.

In Gaza, bitterness is not erased, and grief is not wiped away, but people have learned how to pass through both in order to build a life that resembles them. A fragile life, yes — but a stubborn one. A life built on embraces, quick smiles, and faith that tomorrow may carry a less cruel face. This is how Gazans turn hardship into daily living and write their story every day: a people who create life, despite everything that tries to take it away from them.