I’m sick of writing. I can’t do it anymore.
How do you put into words a woman’s howl – her painful, unrelenting sobbing – as she watches her home being demolished?
How do you put into words the burning stench of tear gas? Or the feeling of panic you get when you realize that you’re utterly vulnerable because can’t see a thing, your eyes are so filled with tears?
How do you put into words the anger you feel when you walk home and see gangs of Israeli soldiers asking Palestinians for their ID cards before they can get into the Old City, their home?
I don’t know. I really don’t know.
I’m sick of writing.
The fields are on fire after Israeli soldiers shot tear gas at non-violent demonstrators during a Friday afternoon demonstration against the Israeli Apartheid Wall (in the background). Bilin, West Bank.
An Israeli soldier watches – and does nothing – as an Israeli settler impedes Palestinians’ right to take water from their own well. South Hebron Hills, West Bank.
Bricks and glass bottles (not to mention dirty water and excrement) are regularly thrown by Israeli settlers onto passersby in the market below. Hebron, West Bank.
16-year-old Ibrahim was shot by an Israeli settler on his way home from school. The settler has gone unpunished, while Ibrahim will likely serve time in prison for allegedly “throwing stones.” Hebron, West Bank.
Demonstrators after Israeli border police shoved, kicked, punched and grabbed them during a non-violent demonstration. Ten activists were arrested. Sheikh Jarrah, Occupied East Jerusalem.
A young Palestinian girl asked me to take a picture of her at a summer camp I helped with for a day. This was the pose she decided on: peace. Dahmash, “unrecognized” Palestinian village inside Israel.