The stench of gunpowder and fire blankets the sky of Gaza… it chokes our lungs, and we can barely draw a single breath! We are standing in the midst of a second Nakba only this time, it is broadcast l

The Rafah plan is now being applied by the occupation to Gaza City.
The same trend: “Keep your eyes on Rafah” and Rafah was wiped off the map!
Now it’s: “Genocide in Gaza, save Gaza!!” And we must realize that the whole world has taken us as nothing more than a trend. No one will act. No one will move.

Israeli propaganda floods the media with talk of “shelters and tents” being built in the south to receive the displaced, satellite images of so-called prepared areas, decisions about “facilitations,” promises of water systems, sewage networks, medical infrastructure, and schedules for evacuation phases distributed to the press.

Meanwhile, the tanks and warplanes were erasing and annihilating the east of Rafah, and the people were fleeing west and north, chased by the army’s vehicles.
When the people of Rafah left their city, they did not leave because of official evacuation orders, but because tanks reached Tel Zorob in two days amid massacres, killings, and savage demolitions.
When they left, they found no infrastructure. No tent cities waiting. Not even the 40,000 tents Netanyahu imported from China for them. They found themselves exposed in the wilderness, impoverished and in need, battling snakes, scorpions, and vermin in the barren Mawasi area, struggling with empty pockets to put up a makeshift tent.

Now, Israeli tanks are gradually closing in on Gaza City from the south—neighborhoods of Zeitoun, Sabra, Tuffah erasing them from the earth. Shells from planes and tanks reach every part of the city, killing and terrifying its people.

The people of Gaza City are now facing the same Israeli deception campaign that was carried out in Rafah.
Should they believe Netanyahu’s promises of infrastructure, schedules, and tents waiting for them in the south? Or should they believe the bombs falling on their heads and the tanks creeping towards them like the jaws of a vice, from Al-Nuzha in the north down to Zeitoun and Sabra in the south?

Most Gazans now believe the shells of death. They search for places of safety. Some are forced to move south. But Netanyahu’s plans about “infrastructure” to welcome them under “humanitarian conditions” are nothing but propaganda lies spread to counter international and human rights criticism.

For the people of Gaza City, nothing separates them from the advancing tanks and the death crawling closer each hour. Rafah’s experience stands before their eyes: everyone abandoned them, left them unprotected, preyed upon by Israel’s savagery and bloodlust.

A madness grips people in Gaza now, merely from imagining that they could lose Gaza forever. People prefer death to being uprooted. They literally prefer being killed on Gaza’s soil to the thought of their city becoming just a memory.

We are the people who know this city best. We are its sons, its lovers, its keepers we memorized its streets, lived its softness and its cruelty, its sea and its breeze, its longing and its love.
We are the ones most entitled to it. Leave it for us alone. Let us weep for it alone, let us mourn its martyrs alone but let us stay in it. Just let us stay.

Nights of death and war: waking at midnight to explosions from helicopters… at dawn to shells from naval boats… in the morning to warplanes raining fire and demolishing homes.

After Israel announced the end of Operation “Chariots of Gideon” where it seized 75% of Gaza and wiped out the entire north and east—now comes another season, a second part. Israel announced “Chariots of Gideon 2” to erase what remains of this grieving people.
The occupation declared: “The second stage of Chariots of Gideon begins, as directed by the political level, launching preparatory operations and the initial stage of the assault on Gaza City.”

The genocide of Gaza and its north is now being carried out silently, without any formal announcement. But it has already begun on the ground hourly demolitions, heavy bombardments for days to push people south of Wadi Gaza.

Netanyahu threatens, and has approved, a plan to occupy Gaza and push its people south. But the world must know: the majority of Gaza’s people are exhausted from repeated displacement. They have no money to move again, no physical strength to endure more. And there are no places left to house them Mawasi Khan Younis and the central camps are already crammed to bursting.

The occupation of Gaza will mean tens of thousands of civilian deaths. It will turn Gaza into a mass grave for its people.

Now, nothing more needs to be said. The encirclement of the city from south and north is underway, preparing for the assault. “Chariots of Gideon 2” means more ruin, more demolitions. The expected outcome for Gaza’s neighborhoods will be carbon copies of Jabalia, Zeitoun, Tuffah, Shuja’iya, and Rafah: vibrant neighborhoods turned into ruins for rats. And in the midst of this, a million human beings are consumed by dread—haunted by the thought that staying means waiting for death, and leaving means living death.

We all await the hand of fate or a miracle to end this nightmare. This is not pessimism. This is reality. And it is not our right to sugarcoat it for the sake of anyone’s feelings.

All forms of death are present.
Every option leads to the grave.

The nights after the martyrdom of journalist Anas al-Sharif have been among the harshest.
The army creeps into Gaza slowly, silently, without media noise, erasing what few buildings remain.

In just a few days the city will be nothing but rubble heaps, unrecognizable streets. Before the eyes of the world, we are witnessing the farewell moment of our city. And there is no alarm, no urgency.

Gaza is being pummeled with heavy artillery. The shelling is relentless, concentrated on Sabra, Zeitoun, and the edges of Rimal, while quadcopter drones buzz above, and tanks spray bullets as they surround homes with fire.

Nights unbearably hard: martyrs and wounded, families trapped with no way to evacuate. No media coverage. We are being annihilated unseen.

Gaza is being eaten alive before our eyes. We are witnesses to agony, helpless except for grief and rage.
The sound of demolitions doesn’t just shatter the ground—it shreds our souls.
Every house erased, every street buried, takes away a memory, a laugh, a piece of safety that was once ours.

How do I describe to you the feeling of seeing your city erased? Seeing the last of your neighborhood, your memories, your features bombed into oblivion? This is not just bombardment—it is the uprooting of human beings from their roots, their faces, their memories.
And Gaza screams… but no one answers.

Four massive demolitions just now in northern Gaza, detonated by robots. They shook the earth, their explosions felt all the way in Khan Younis and the central strip.
Each blast tears the air, deafens ears, and rips apart anyone nearby.
Each demolition destroys dozens of homes. Each time, more families lose what little walls and memories they had left. This wave of demolitions now advances into the heart of Gaza, killing the last traces of our lives.

All this is preparation for the worst displacement yet. Pushing people south will be harsher and deadlier than any previous wave.
The displacement zones are tiny, overcrowded Deir al-Balah, Nuseirat, Mawasi Khan Younis. Small areas already bursting with Rafah and Khan Younis refugees.

No equipment, no tents, no tarps, no means of life no sewage, no water in barren land.
Diseases spread rapidly in the south: reports of COVID returning, influenza surging, all worsened by overcrowding. Now imagine another million people forced there.

The coming catastrophe will be unbearable. If this continues, it means tens of thousands of martyrs in a short time—either under heavy bombardment to push people out, or during displacement itself, in disease, overcrowding, and suffocation.

Do you know what a new displacement from Gaza City means?
It means putting the whole planet in your throat: not dead, not breathing. Do you grasp the feeling? We live it a thousand times over.

All the headlines say: “We are coming to annihilate you in Gaza and make it a desert.”
We read them, and the feeling we have is not fear of death—death is lighter. The heaviest weight on earth is Gaza itself our memories, our landmarks, which even in ruin, we embraced.

The destruction you see even now still makes Gaza the most beautiful city on earth for us. We have lived with it as if we could rebuild it in hours. Just stop the war, and you will see.

Our feet are heavy, our eyes fixed. We walk each street as if we are saying goodbye. Is this our last time here? Our hearts bleed tears unseen, yet more searing than hellfire.

For two years we have carried our homes, or what is left of them, in small bags, moving from place to place, starting from zero again and again. But truthfully, we never left zero.
Even those who chose to leave for the south live in paralyzing inability. Only the wealthiest those with $4,000 cash can manage transportation, rent a house or a storage unit, or buy a tent and a piece of land, set up a toilet, a water tank, a small kitchen. This time, people will be killed by their inability, not by their decision to stay. Most people have no strength left, no money, no food, no energy. Most will stay not out of choice, but because there is no other path.

We weep for Gaza before they finish her off. We weep with the blood of our hearts, not just our eyes. We weep with fire in our veins, not with simple tears.
Our city, strangled by massacres, stripped of every sign of life. No water, no medicine, no cleanliness, no hospitals. Not even a groan louder than the sound of collapse.

But still even like this she is too precious to abandon, too beautiful to leave. She is the ruin we love, the destruction we long for, the fragrance that fills our souls like oxygen.

In Gaza we live on memory, on stubbornness, on dignity. Here we choke, yes, but with dignity. Elsewhere we would breathe but in humiliation.
In Gaza, even with hunger, there is life. Even with death, there is something worth perishing for.

The military operation Israel wages against Gaza now targets Egypt and Jordan’s national security just as much as it targets us.
Turning Gaza into a barren desert, without schools, universities, mosques, institutions, means the end of “voluntary displacement” and the beginning of the largest forced expulsion in modern history.

For those who compare with Syria: when displacement there turned from “voluntary” to forced—after millions were herded into Idlib Turkey moved militarily and nearly went to full war with the regime and Russia, before reaching the “de-escalation agreement” that prevented mass expulsion.

What is happening in Gaza is far deeper than war or occupation or killing for its own sake. The goal is to change the geography of the region, not just its history.
If the plan to expel Gaza’s people succeeds, the plan to expel the West Bank will succeed as well without resistance. That will mark the dawn of Israel’s new era, with eyes on Sinai, Jordan, after they already returned to Mount Hermon and Quneitra. These are not dreams or illusions. These are published plans, signed projects, cornerstones already laid.

Amid all this tragedy, the greatest threat to Palestinian existence is forced displacement a new Nakba that would scar generations.

Remaining in the land, under any form of control or restrictions, is far better than being uprooted forever. Displacement means the loss of identity, memory, roots. Staying means preserving rights, keeping hope alive no matter how hard.

That is why any settlement even under occupation that ensures people’s safety, their homes, their belongings, and lets them continue life in their land, is far less disastrous than displacement and uprooting.

To give up the condition of staying is to accept a fate worse than occupation itself: the erasure of Palestinian existence from Gaza.

The essence of the national and human stance is this: to protect Gazans’ right to stay in their land, and to reject all plans of expulsion, no matter the cost.

So can the mediators propose this: “Let them enter, but let them not drive the people out. Let them guarantee their lives, their homes, their tents.”
Can they force the Israeli side to this? Will the Palestinian negotiator accept?

For if Israel will take the city anyway, if no one can stop it with numbers or weapons then it is far better that it rules Gaza with its people still in it, than that it rules an empty city.

Staying today is the only guarantee of survival. Leaving is the beginning of the end.