Yellowie's Cave

My name is Abdullah Al-Qassab, I’m 27 years old, and I am writing this message with trembling hands and an empty stomach — from Gaza.

Before the war, I had a small travel agency something I built with love, effort, and hope.I dreamed of a simple life… a dignified life.

But the war didn’t just destroy my home and business —it shattered my ability to dream.

Today, I’m not asking for dreams.I’m asking for bread. For water. For life I now live with my family in the open — no walls, no roof, just the cold ground beneath us.

We are in a catastrophic famine.

We go days without food.

We faint in the street from hunger.

Our bodies are giving up.

And still… the world remains silent.

My mother has a heart condition — she needs medicine and special food.

Now she lies in pain, her chest aching, and I have nothing to give her. My grandmother has high blood pressure — worsened by hunger and cold nights.

Her body is shrinking before my eyes.

And me😞?

I’ve collapsed more than once from weakness. From not eating.But I stand up again… because they need me.

What do you call this life?

Sleeping on the dirt… watching your family starve… praying your heart doesn’t stop before help arrives? This is not a life. This is a slow death. To anyone reading this Please… don’t turn away from me.

Help me buy food before we collapse again. Help me get medicine before my mother’s heart gives out.

Help me bring even one moment of comfort to my grandmother before it’s too late.

I’m not asking for luxury.

I’m not asking for comfort.

> I’m begging for survival.

Even the smallest act of kindness could mean the world to us. Please… save us from this hunger.

— Abdullah Al-Qassab

Gaza, Palestine

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