The rain falls as if the sky is weeping for Gaza
The child shivers no roof to shelter him, no arms to warm him.
Drenched in cold and war,
as if the world forgot his little heart still beats.

I was documenting the suffering of a widowed woman with my friend Hamed. She had lost everything—her husband, her home, her sense of safety.
Her features were worn, her voice heavy with sorrow, but her eyes spoke a silent pain.
In Gaza, even grief has become ordinary… and dignity, a distant dream.

I’m Mohammed, a graphic designer from the heart of Gaza.
This is my first post, and I will be sharing stories and truths that do not appear in media outlets.
I am looking for a space where I can express myself, without fear of being silenced or having the truth suppressed.