The Epic Struggle of A Trapped Student
Last night, I had a dream that I was running, running and running, and I kept running till I glanced an emergency exit. Though I cannot remember whether I made my way out, I woke up feeling breathless. Strangled. Suffocated. I cannot even find a better word to describe that feeling, but I think it would suffice to say I woke up to another morning in Gaza! Every night I sleep hopefully that tomorrow is a “better” day only to have a “bitter” one instead. My mornings in Gaza are as salty as the tap water I wash –or rather taint– my face with. I even replaced my “good morning” to my mother with “sabah el-maleh” (salty morning). Despite myself, however, every night I rekindle my hope that tomorrow will bring me a “good morning”.