The first week of aggression, my home was demolished, but I’m grateful none of my family were harmed. So we moved. To our grandfather’s house, thinking it was safe, but it also turned into ash. 

In the second week, the occupation forces ordered the northern residents to move south, claiming that this area was safe. So we moved to Deir el-Balah, because we had no other place to live. Deir el-Balah, where I witnessed death many times there. They bombarded the building where I took refuge. Not only, they bombed the entire area. 

So we had to evacuate for the forth time. Eventually, we ended up here, in Rafah, in this school, where life’s basics are scarce. No clean water, hygiene, or clean food.

Speaking about that, before the aggression, I was a strong advocate for human rights, training so hard to work in NGO institutions, believing that I would serve for human rights, making an impact in the world. 

But now, I lost all my faith in human rights. The dreams of promoting human rights turned into a harsh reality, challenging even the most fundamental principles. I’m Daiana, ambitious and dreamy, with dreams knowing no limits.

All what I dream about right now is just survive. All what I want, just to be alive. Can you imagine?