
foggy sunset
25.6K posts

foggy sunset
@sunsetfoglight
increasingly tired nurse practitioner in inner city public health clinic 🏥 🩺 also taught esl here & elsewhere


After weeks of illness, injury, and hospital stays, we emerged to find ourselves facing a reality harsher than words can describe. 💔 Our small tent is completely empty; there's no food, no bread, no clean water, not even firewood to cook whatever we can find. We are all still suffering and desperately need proper nutrition during our treatment. Miral's jaw and nose are broken, Rahaf has severe pneumonia, and I'm a pregnant woman with severe anemia… All of this is happening under unbearable living conditions. Yet, the greatest pain is our helplessness in the face of our young children's hunger, all under the age of four. My dear friends, you were our reason for survival after God, and thanks to you, we got through those difficult days. Today, we timidly return to ask for your support once again. 😞 We desperately need just $250 to secure basic food and firewood for the next week. It may seem like a small amount to some, but for us, it means survival. Please, I beg you a thousand times, share our plight so it may reach someone who can help, and donate if you can 🙏 chuffed.org/project/179053…

After weeks of illness, injury, and hospital stays, we emerged to find ourselves facing a reality harsher than words can describe. 💔 Our small tent is completely empty; there's no food, no bread, no clean water, not even firewood to cook whatever we can find. We are all still suffering and desperately need proper nutrition during our treatment. Miral's jaw and nose are broken, Rahaf has severe pneumonia, and I'm a pregnant woman with severe anemia… All of this is happening under unbearable living conditions. Yet, the greatest pain is our helplessness in the face of our young children's hunger, all under the age of four. My dear friends, you were our reason for survival after God, and thanks to you, we got through those difficult days. Today, we timidly return to ask for your support once again. 😞 We desperately need just $250 to secure basic food and firewood for the next week. It may seem like a small amount to some, but for us, it means survival. Please, I beg you a thousand times, share our plight so it may reach someone who can help, and donate if you can 🙏 chuffed.org/project/179053…




One of the most beautiful coincidences happened yesterday while I was distributing diapers and baby formula in the displacement camps. I met two beautiful twin girls, and their father told me that what we provided was the most meaningful gift in light of the harsh prices and the closure of the crossings. We promised him that we will continue to do our best to stand by them. That wasn’t the only touching moment… I also met a little girl who came to her parents after 10 years of waiting. Their joy was beyond words. Her father told me, “She is the most beautiful gift in life.” Despite everything we are going through, we are still a people who love life… and create hope. My friends, we will continue these initiatives for our infants. Your support truly makes a difference. If you would like to contribute, you can donate through the link. With all my gratitude ❤️ @leylahamed @Partisangirl @SanaSaeed For initiatives: paypal.me/NizarAlmasre To help my family and 4 families of my relatives🙏🏼 chuffed.org/project/149470







Today, on my road to the clinic, I climbed into that miserable chariot which has become the common carriage of Gaza: a broken cart dragged forward by an exhausted car, itself seeming to cough rather than move, like some old beast condemned to labor beyond mercy. Beside me sat a young man, hardly past the threshold of youth, perhaps twenty eight years of age. He held in his hands a torn plastic sack, poor banner of a fallen life. His garments were worn thin, his face hollow with fatigue, and on his brow there rested that dreadful expression one learns only in famine: the look of a man who has spent the day searching not for fortune, not for comfort, but merely for bread. When he entered, the driver asked him: “Do you have money for the fare?” He replied at once, with the haste of wounded pride: “Yes.” He paid. Then he turned toward me. There was no anger in him, no noise, no rebellion. There was only ruin. He drew out his phone and said in a low voice: “Look at how our life used to be.” He showed me photographs. “We used to import clothes from Israel and Turkey. We sold them. We had everything.” He stopped, as though memory itself had struck him in the chest. “Then the war destroyed it all. Our goods, our homes .. everything.” He lowered his eyes to his hands, those empty hands that perhaps once counted profit, folded children’s clothes, opened doors of his own house. “But I do not steal. And I do not ride without paying.” Then he spoke words I shall carry like a stone in the heart: “We are people of dignity .. but life humiliated us.” In those few syllables, he was defending an invisible kingdom. Perhaps before me. Perhaps before himself. He wished it known that this shadow seated in dust was not the whole man. That once he had walls around him. Trade in his hands. Purpose in his mornings. That before the sky fell, he had been someone standing upright beneath it. He did not quarrel with the driver. He begged no pity. He asked for something rarer than charity. He asked to be recognized. He wanted some human voice to tell him: “I see you. I know who you were. I know this is not your true life.” He wanted a hand laid gently upon his shoulder. A sentence strong enough to keep a soul from collapsing. A small lamp against the vast humiliation. And while I listened to him, I understood. This is not only the story of one man. This is Gaza. A land filled with men and women who, while roofs fall, bread vanishes, and history tramples them beneath iron feet, still labor in silence to preserve the last fortress left to them: dignity. Perhaps this is what they need most now. Not bread alone. Not shelter alone. But someone to whisper to them, with tenderness and truth: This misery is not your name. And one day, when the smoke has passed and the ruins have finished speaking, you shall be seen again as you truly were. #WoundedGaza

A new chapter for the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz is unfolding.



A very dystopian scene today at the funeral for three civil defense workers who were killed two nights ago while carrying out their humanitarian duty rescuing those injured in an Israeli bombing in Majdal Zoun. In the background of this funeral was the sounds of bombing, artillery shelling and the Israeli Air Force flying at low altitude. Targeting medical professionals is a war crime. Cameraman: @aliezzeddine00



