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Today, my children stood beside the wall of our tent and began drawing Palestine. With small hands and quiet concentration, they traced its map and painted its flag—not because I taught them how to hold on to a place, but because somehow, even in the middle of a war, they already understand what it means to belong. I watched them and felt a sadness I could not explain. Their childhood should be filled with classrooms, books, pencils, laughter, and dreams about what they will become. Instead, they are growing up surrounded by tents, uncertainty, and the constant reminders of a war they never chose. They should be learning geography from a schoolbook, not drawing the shape of their homeland on the wall of the place where we sleep. And yet, there they were, creating something beautiful in a place where so much has been destroyed. Maybe this is what remains when everything else is taken away: a child’s memory, a simple drawing, and a love for home that refuses to disappear. I looked at their little hands covered in paint and wondered what kind of future we are asking them to imagine. I want them to grow up knowing Palestine not only as a name written on a wall, but as a home where they can learn, live safely, dream freely, and build their own lives. Until that day comes, we keep holding on. And to everyone who continues to stand beside us, to listen, to share our stories, to speak about Gaza, and to remind us that we have not been forgotten—thank you. Your solidarity means more than you may ever know. Please keep remembering our children. Their drawings are small, but the hope behind them is not.
#gaza 
#helpgaza 
#childrenofgaza
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