fromwww.theguardian.com
1 week agoIn Gaza, we are picking up our lives amid the remnants of war, fear of Israel's return haunting every step | Sondos Sabra
The war has ended, and it's time for me to return to my coffee, my bread and my poetry. Yet I don't know what it means to return to life, after death has lived within us down to the marrow. Death had us memorised by heart, reciting our names one by one with unwavering precision. We grew accustomed to it too, in all its forms and colours, until funerals became a daily ritual, much like a weather report we already know by heart.
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