──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! ★⋆

I write to you with a heavy heart, burdened by need and shame, but my hope in God and in you is great. We are on the verge of the blessed month of Ramadan, and I truly need your support so that I can secure my family's basic needs for this holy month. We need flour, oil, thyme, cheese, gas, and some other essential household items so that I can provide simple meals for my children during Ramadan. My responsibility is immense; I am a mother, and after God, I have no one but my children, and you are my support after Him. Your donation, even if it is small, will make a huge difference in our lives and will help me bring peace to my children's hearts during this holy month. Please stand with me in this difficult time and consider my children as your own. May God reward you abundantly and grant you double the reward in this blessed month. Your sister, Haifa Hamid

Every day here in Gaza feels like a year carved into our chests. The war isn’t like it was in the early days—the sky is quieter, the air carries less smoke, and the nights hold fewer explosions. But the pain… it still lives under the rubble, inside our memories, and in the empty spaces where our loved ones once stood.

I’m writing this today not because the war has completely ended, but because for the first time in a long while, it feels like the horizon is opening a little. A small space where we can breathe, gather ourselves, and try to rebuild what’s left of our lives. Yet every step forward feels like walking on wounded memories, and every stone from our destroyed home whispers stories we never got to finish.

We lived through nights so heavy we thought morning would never come. We lost things that can never be replaced—homes, dreams, pieces of our hearts. But we are still here… holding on, trying, fighting to stay standing despite everything.

And in the middle of this long road… there is a house. A house that once carried laughter, warmth, noise, and life. Today, all that remains is an image holding a memory—and rubble longing for the people who once lived inside.

Today, we are trying to rebuild—not just the walls of a house, but an entire life that was shattered. We are trying to create a new beginning, to live with dignity again, to give our family a sense of safety that we’ve been missing for so long.

We’re not writing this to mourn what was lost, but to ask for a chance to start again. We ask for your support because rebuilding after a war is not something one person can do alone—it is a human effort, a shared act of compassion. We need you. We need your hearts. We need your help to stand again.

Every contribution—no matter how small—makes a difference. It becomes part of our story, part of rebuilding a home, part of reviving a life that nearly faded.

The war may be almost over… but our journey back to life begins now.

Everyone ships them with Robert BUT. What would they be if they were together?