If you stand or sit, you will die. If you sleep or stay up late, you will die. If you leave your house or go to your tent, you will die.

You die if you are in bread lines in front of bakeries, and waiting for water and food in front of charitable hospices.

And you will die if a monster spots you walking under its eyes and fangs, carrying a bag of flour on your shoulder.

You will die with your children if your soul, which commands you to be extremely hungry, tempts you to eat a meal of poisonous rabbitfish, which quickly makes its eater nauseous and takes the life of anyone who is forced, unwillingly or unjustly, to eat it to satisfy his hunger and the hunger of his children.

Wherever you turn in the devastated Gaza Strip, you see death staring at you, in your sleep and in your wake, in the dilapidated houses and worn-out tents, in the bulldozed streets and destroyed buildings.

In Gaza, children are dying of cold in their sleep, and of tank shells and drone bullets, inside tents.

In Gaza, the Gazans eat their hunger and drink their thirst, and sleep eludes their eyes as they lean over their children, feeling their bodies, day and night, for fear that their limbs will freeze and their hearts will stop under thin covers that neither warm nor protect from the cold, and worn-out tents that the winds flutter around.

Stop the genocide now...!