Yesterday, I decided to take my children to the sea. It wasn't an outing in the way most people know it it was a desperate attempt to give them a few hours of joy in a life that has left them with no playgrounds, no parks, no toys, and no normal childhood.
We walked for about an hour and a half because there was no transportation available.
Along the entire way, rows of displaced families' tents stretched endlessly on both sides of the road. Entire families were living beneath thin sheets of fabric under the blazing summer sun.
The streets were flooded with sewage, and the smell was overwhelming, as if reminding us that this is not the life any human being deserves.
When we finally reached the sea, it was crowded. Not because people had come to relax, but because it has become the last place where an entire people can breathe after losing their homes, their parks, their streets, and every place that once made life feel normal.
On the way back, I had only one wish.
I wished someone would suddenly appear, smile, and say, "Cut... it was all just a hidden camera prank."
I wished I could open my eyes and find that the tents were gone, our homes had returned, children were back in their schools, and this endless suffering was finally over.
But reality was far more painful.
We walked home the same way we came through rows of tents, past the stench of sewage, carrying the weight of a homeland still waiting to come back to life.
I don't want pity. I simply want the world to know that there are people who still live this reality every single day, wishing just once that they could wake up from this nightmare
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