ZIAD IN GAZA

 
I read the messages from Rola and Ayham, two of my friends abroad. If I miss a text, they panic. I keep reminding them that we don’t have access to the internet all the time.

Sometimes, they send me audio messages crying, telling me that they feel useless for not being able to take me out of this situation; sometimes they send me jokes and hopeful notes. One time, they started sending messages, back to back, about what we will do together when all of this is over.

Ayham: “We will travel together. I will take you to Italy.”

Rola: “I will invite you to our house to eat my mother’s delicious food.”

Ayham: “We will go bowling, and just like the last time, I will win.”

Rola: “We will go together to all the bookshops in the world.”

I read their messages, smiling and crying. I prepare for another dark night.