Deir al -Ilah, Gaza – It was not a nightmare, it was real. The war returned, like this, without warning.

You read at 2:10 am when we woke up in terrorism to the sound of the loud air strikes. Violent noise shook everything around us.

My daughter, Banias, woke up in fear: “Mama!

She was directly beside me, screaming in terrorism, but I couldn’t even reassure her. My mind was in a state of complete chaos.

Is this bombing again? What is happening? Who attacks us?

In a moment of denial, I thought: Are these Yemeni missiles on Israel? Does this strike hit us?

Voices of genocide that are unambiguous

Oh, my God. The explosions intensified, and the sound was unambiguous, and it was one we knew well – Israeli air strikes on Gaza.

My husband Parias carried, trying to calm her.

I ran to my phone, and ordered the local journalists groups. Everyone was asking, “What is happening?”

Minutes passed before the news started in: a house targeting the Deir al -Adl, a blow to a house in Nawwayer.

Several tents were bombed for the displaced families in Maousy, Khan Yunis, and there was artillery lava in his shelf.

A complete residential building was exposed in Gabalia, north of Gaza, and there were strikes in the Karama neighborhood. The “Fire Belt” was launched in the center of Gaza.

Then the desperate calls came: “a family besieged under the rubble.”

“A residential bloc has been settled.”

“We need ambulances.”

People shouted for help, and called on civil defense teams.

However, the bombing continued – violent, uncompromising.

Fear and death pictures

I photographed photos and videos – shattered bodies, martyrs, and fill the wounded every medical center working in the tape. The scenes that barely started to forget, returned.

Moments later, Israel has officially announced that it was canceling the ceasefire and resumed its war on Gaza.

I felt like a blow to the head.

“What does this mean?” My sister, who came to spend a few days with me, screamed. “No, we don’t want war again.

We all stared at the news, and two eyes widely with shock. “Oh my God, enough … enough.”

I am still holding my phone, I passed more – pictures of the infants who were killed in air strikes, burned tents, and entire residential blocks that were reduced to ruins.

Oh my God, the same pictures, the same suffering, in the same nightmare.

The war was taking exactly the place where it stopped – without decoration, without an excuse, without camouflage. Just killing, bombing, extermination, and an endless flood of blood.

I asked my family around me, “What about the north?

We were trapped.

In Gaza, you cannot plan for tomorrow

Only last night, my father and my twin sisters invited, in the twenties, for breakfast in Ramadan in our place in Zaida, near Deira Pala in central Gaza. It was a simple family gathering, persuaded them to stay at night, and plan all for us to go north the next morning.

We have planned some Ramadan visits, and some missions to buy children’s clothes before the Eid and summer arrived. As always, every visit to the north was also an opportunity to explore new stories.

Now, all of these “plans” were meaningless. In one moment, life turned upside down. The war returned.

Planning has become a crime in this place. To plan for your day, regardless of the worldly range, even a simple thing like shopping or spending time with the family is an unforgivable luxury.

Here, you are guilty to expect from normal life, you are doomed to live in a state of persistent alert – every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every year.

My sister, who works in the media for a humanitarian organization, suddenly realized: “Oh my God!

You consume my guilt. I was the person who persuaded them to stay, this was my fault.

What if they closed the roads? How will the next stage of the war look like? Will the war start in the north? Or will it invade the central area?

Only the Derm of the Package remains now. Oh my God, what kind of trap is this?

I am amazed by my mind, stirring through ideas – do we have to wear our protective journalistic journals again? Return to work from hospitals?

But we have already dismantled the work space of our tents there. The journalists had withdrawn, spreading between the north and the south, in an attempt to start again.

Wait, what about the Banias School? I just recorded it at the school last week, certainly it is now over. We went back to war.

My heart is painful. When the ceasefire began, we felt some relief, but it was unprecedented. Fear, hesitation and confusion cling to us.

We did not know where to start, we did not dare to plan and every time we did, the missiles reminded us of our mistake.

Cabinet

Two days ago, my husband and I went to shop and for the first time, I dared buy one rug, table and chairs, panels and spoons, and some of the kitchen basics.

Since moving here, all we had four mattresses, four blankets, four panels, four spoons and a small cooking bowl.

Throughout the war, we refused to get anything else. Our clothes were stacked on a paper scattered on the floor in a dedicated room, divided into sections for each of us, and we jokingly called it a “dressing room”.

It was always chaos, as organizing clothes on the floor was a daily battle, and every time we entered the room, I would like my husband to say: “We need a wardrobe.”

The wardrobe was the big luxury, as it took a ceasefire for us to think about buying one, although we were hesitating to stay in the south or move north. We have always chosen to travel to light, and ready to flee at any moment.

But only yesterday morning, I finally fill our winter clothes and told my husband: “Let’s buy a wardrobe.”

Now I received my answer. This renewed shelling means that the cabinet is no longer an option. The chaos was waiting instead … my thoughts, my shattered plans, and the chaos of life that I could no longer control, regardless of how difficult I tried.

Despite all the destruction and ruin around us, as if it was not really enough, we know that we no longer dream, we no longer plan, and we no longer want anything, and we no longer look forward to anything.

All we want is to survive.