As a displaced person from northern Gaza to the south for three years, today I managed to visit limited areas in the north. While I had seen countless photos online, witnessing the destruction in person was overwhelmingly shocking so much so that I completely forgot to take picturs.

​How could I think of taking photos amidst such sheer disbelief? I saw bombed and ruined houses interspersed with worn-out, fragile tents, and faces marked by deep sadness and exhaustion from the endless struggle for basic survival. The simplest necessities of life : clean water, food, and electricity have become remarkably difficult to obtain. This reality has transformed people; their faces look weary, and their clothes are faded and worn compared to how they used to be.

​The streets have lost all order and tranquility, trapped in suffocating traffic jams. The roads have become narrow, compressed by piles of rubble and sprawling tents. Only a few vehicles remain, overloaded with excessive numbers of people trying to move around under harsh conditions.

The main reason for this journey was to visit my grandfather, who was injured during the war. The route that used to be short, easy, and affordable before the war has turned into an exhausting ordeal. Transportation fares have surged to extraordinarily exorbitant levels compared to normal rates. War and displacement forced us apart, and just to spend two hours with my grandfather, it took us an entire day of travel back and forth. It cost us a heavy financial burden, immense physical fatigue, and precius time all for somehing that should have been simple and natural under normal circumstances.

Due to these insurmountable obstacles, the hardship of travel, and the astronomical cost of transportation, social visits and connections between people have drastically diminished. We can no longer visit our loved ones as we used to; I, for instance, have not been able to see my best friend for a very long time. Every family is completely consumed and burdened by the daily struggle just to secure basic food, water, and power to charge their devices.

Even as a student, my entire day revolves around managing basic survival tasks: how to charge my phone and the study light I depend on, and how to continue studying, complete my coursework, and pass my exams amidst all this gloom. The war has weighed everyone down with overwhelming burdens, turning social visits into a luxury beyond reach.

​On the way back, I caught sight of the sea, which I had missed dearly. I was reminded once again of how beautiful Gaza's sea truly is, yet passing by or approaching it today feels like a dangerous risk; even the sea is no longer a safe place.

​This experience highlights the "second war" we are living: not just the immediate destruction, but the ongoing harsh reality of displacement and hardship. Ultimately, you feel like an expatriate living in your own country; your home is destroyed, and reaching your neighborhood or loved ones requires navigating through endless fatigue and ruins.