Friday 03/11/2023

I stopped counting the days since this monster of a massacre began ravenously eating us, as if we were made to die under the claws of the Israeli occupation. We're still at the European hospital with my father after his arm and foot surgery. But the ophthalmologist told us to lose any hope that my father would recover sight in his right eye and that he can't see using his right eye. There's a hope he recovers if he leaves Gaza but the occupation has shut all possible ways out of Gaza, even if for medical reasons. 

I feel like I'm seeing the world through one eye since my father lost his. A one eyed world that sees and feels only what it wants to see and feel. We can't return this life and exchange it for another after this one has spat us, half chewed, on the pavement. 

After three days at the hospital, my family having now arrived here since the occupation has destroyed all our homes, we decided to set up a tent outside the hospital. A tent made of blankets, rocks and metal rods we foraged from the area. Its weather is pretty pleasant, hot during the day and cold at night - that's the new pleasant according to the 2023 tent (trend), an extension of the 1948 tent. 

The hospital released my father today, which means that the patient gets to go home after healing to an extent. But we don't have access to that basic right because our house has been destroyed. And because my father hasn't received the necessary care due to an extreme shortage in medical supplies. My father was released from one ward to another where he lies on a wooden bed that he can barely move in because of his injury. There's no wheelchair so he can't even go to the bathroom. 

We've had a few calm days without hearing any explosions , but today, a bomb pierced through the calm. Maybe we'll build a tent somewhere else, and maybe we won't even be alive to do that. Maybe we'll become ashes. What I'm sure of is that the world has become one eyed to me.