Not very long ago, during one of the heavy bombardments near our tent, an explosion struck just beside us. Shrapnel tore through the air and pierced my hand, leaving me injured and in pain. Even as I struggle with this wound, I have no choice but to keep caring for my family, because I am their only source of support.
Asking for donations is exhausting, and it makes me feel weak while I know Iβm capable of incredible strength and resilience.
Your support is a lifeline thanks to which I keep my head above water. But itβs a sea of pain, endless cries, and denial of our humanity.


