In the midst of chaos, I realized the weight of every image I reported on — these were human lives, not just news stories. Each body was a father, brother, a piece of someone's world lost forever.
As I documented the horrific aftermath of the attack, I found myself overwhelmed by the reality of war — bodies being pulled from the rubble, families shattered, and decisions about how to convey that grief to an audience who might not grasp the enormity of the loss.
For the first time since the war began, I cracked on live TV. My voice shook, and I had to pause and apologize, admitting it was difficult to witness and report simultaneously.
It was a dark and hazy night, and despite exhaustion, the chaos continued around me. The constant barrage of rockets reminded me of the urgency and the relentless duty to tell the story without losing the humanity behind each image.
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