“How did it feel for the man who built a home, only to watch it turn to the rubble? How does a farmer stand before the land he tended year after year, now lying barren—no scent of soil, no whisper of harvest? How does a father tell his son the school he loved is gone, that the garden where he played is now only a rumor in the rubble? How does a mother walk through the ghost of a playground, finding a small shoe, a torn notebook, a toy she once mended? How do neighbors look at one another, wordless, knowing the world they shared has vanished?
…
I stood among the ruins, breath caught in my chest, searching for any trace of what once was. I felt the ache in every stone, every corner, every fragment of memory. But beneath it, I sensed something small and unbroken: my own heart, still beating. And a faint, stubborn light—a quiet voice within: I am still here. I can still walk. I can still love this life, despite everything.
…
I am Aseel, a writer from Gaza, living amid genocide and famine. Your support can help my family survive.
https://chuffed.org/project/138285-help-sehwel-family-with-their-medical-treatment”

– @Aseelsehwel, https://blog.gaza.onl/aseelsehwel/two-years-had-passed-since-my-feet-last-touched-the-ground-of-salah-al-din

#AseelSehwel #Gaza #Palestine #author #witness #survivor #israel #genocide

“How did it feel for the man who built a home, only to watch it turn to the rubble? How does a farmer stand before the land he tended year after year, now lying barren—no scent of soil, no whisper of harvest? How does a father tell his son the school he loved is gone, that the garden where he played is now only a rumor in the rubble? How does a mother walk through the ghost of a playground, finding a small shoe, a torn notebook, a toy she once mended? How do neighbors look at one another, wordless, knowing the world they shared has vanished?
…
I stood among the ruins, breath caught in my chest, searching for any trace of what once was. I felt the ache in every stone, every corner, every fragment of memory. But beneath it, I sensed something small and unbroken: my own heart, still beating. And a faint, stubborn light—a quiet voice within: I am still here. I can still walk. I can still love this life, despite everything.
…
I am Aseel, a writer from Gaza, living amid genocide and famine. Your support can help my family survive.
https://chuffed.org/project/138285-help-sehwel-family-with-their-medical-treatment”

– @Aseelsehwel, https://blog.gaza.onl/aseelsehwel/two-years-had-passed-since-my-feet-last-touched-the-ground-of-salah-al-din

#AseelSehwel #Gaza #Palestine #author #witness #survivor #israel #genocide

“And with this constant displacement, one companion stayed with us: fear.

It slips into the smallest moments, in bread lines, in the quiet hours before dawn.
It rides the sound of aircraft, it lives in the silence where a familiar voice once was.

And yet, despite everything, we continue.
We lift one another when we fall, holding on to the light that still shines within us, and to the whisper that says: we will endure, we will continue, no matter what.

What we ask for is simple — painfully simple: A roof that does not collapse, a door that is not shattered, and a child who can sleep without knowing fear.”

– @Aseelsehwel

https://blog.gaza.onl/aseelsehwel/we-carry-our-homeland-in-our-eyes-even-as-we-walk-away-from-the-cities-that

#Gaza #Palestine #FreePalestine #AseelSehwel

“They stood in a silence so heavy it seemed to bend the light around them.
Their smiles were hesitant — like doors that had forgotten how to open. And in that moment, I realized: freedom itself can be fragile.

We who survived war thought we had endured the worst — the bombs, the hunger, the endless waiting. But their stories shattered that belief.”

– @aseelsehwel

https://blog.gaza.onl/aseelsehwel/when-i-heard-the-prisoners-were-to-be-released-a-fragile-pulse-stirred-inside

#Gaza #Palestine #israel #genocide #prisoners #AseelSehwel #StopIsrael #StopTheGenocide #FreePalestine

“I watch others from afar—chasing dreams I cannot reach, climbing ladders I cannot touch, celebrating victories that sound like whispers from another life. They wake without fear. They plan without hesitation. They move through a world that no longer belongs to me. And I… I measure my days by the tremor of explosions, by the moments when the sky feels ready to collapse.

War steals more than homes—it swallows the ordinary: quiet mornings, free laughter, hands meeting without trembling. I walk in my mind, I learn, I love—but always slipping away, always behind glass, always elsewhere.”

– @Aseelsehwel

https://blog.gaza.onl/aseelsehwel/i-live-where-the-sound-of-silence-is-broken-only-by-war

#AseelSehwel #Gaza #Palestine