*"From the heart of Hamza Al-Louh… This is Gaza"*
Every morning, we don’t wake to the sound of birds — but to the roar of warplanes.
Every night, sleep doesn’t come from rest — but from fear.
Here in Gaza, where nothing feels like life, we still try to live.
I am Hamza Al-Louh, a son of this land torn by siege and scarred by war. Childhood here isn’t lived — it’s remembered, faintly, like a distant dream.
In Gaza, we don’t count days — we count attacks. We don’t wait for holidays — we wait for silence.
Our home, like many, has lost its windows, its roof, its laughter.
My mother bakes with firewood, and my father hides his sorrow behind “Alhamdulillah.”
My younger siblings don’t ask for toys — they ask for power, water, or just peace.
In Gaza, we grow up not by age, but by pain.
We carry burdens heavier than any child should bear.
We memorize the names of martyrs more than the names of stars.
And yet — we endure.
We love Gaza. We stay. We hope.
We believe that dawn will come, no matter how long the night lasts.
**If you’re reading this… even $5 can make a difference.
A little from you is life for someone help From the heart of Gaza, thank you.**
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