“How do you manage?” "That’s the question I keep being asked. But the truth is—I cried once. It was at the beginning of the genocide, when my mother said, “We left our home in Gaza. We are displaced.” That moment shattered me . Since then, the tears dried up. I didn’t cry when my niece was murdered. I only cried again when my mother was killed. The psychologists struggled to understand, and eventually a psychiatrist had to prescribe medication just so I could sleep. I take an amount if these pills, daily. I returned to painting—but every canvas is Gaza. Always Gaza. I feel crushed. Soulless. As if someone tore my soul from my chest and flung it into the air—wingless. My smile vanished. Gone, like a Nazi soldier stealing the belongings of a passing Jewish man. And now the Zionazi mindset thinks it can erase us too. But even if we are broken, even if our spirits are hollowed—we will still fight. For dignity For liberty For freedom We must hold the criminals accountable. Every horrific scene leaves a mark—like an X-ray in my brain. It snaps, it imprints, and then plays again in a cruel loop. One of those scenes is the flour massacre. I painted it. I crushed the colors, forced the brush—so that whoever sees it feels what I feel uneasy. " Dr. AbdalHadi Alijila