8:41 PM @wahaj_bani_moufleh he scene was overwhelming a blend of joy, pain, and rage all at once. Covering the release of Palestinian prisoners after 15 months of war and destruction should have been a moment of triumph, a rare instance of hope amidst despair. But the joy was tainted. The Israelis delayed the release until after midnight, as if to rob the moment of its light.
As we waited, the air grew heavy, not just with anticipation but with the sound of gunfire and the sting of tear gas. Families who had spent years longing to embrace their loved ones were met with suppression. Instead of celebration, there was the piercing reality of occupation bullets tearing through the night, gas clouds choking those who had come to welcome freedom.
I stood there, torn. Behind the lens of my camera, I captured moments of reunion that felt both fragile and defiant. I wanted to celebrate, to feel the pure joy of seeing prisoners reunited with their families, but the cruelty of the situation refused to let me. It wasn’t just about those being released it was about those who would remain behind, the families who would go home without their loved ones, and the reminder that even freedom here comes at a price.
The mixed emotions are hard to describe excitement, heartbreak, anger, and exhaustion, all wrapped together. It was a moment that should have been sacred, but instead, it became a battlefield of emotions, a testament to the resilience of a people who celebrate even in the face of oppression. 7:00 PM @wizard_bisan1 I went to Rafah today, for the first time since May 2024, It was not there, Rafah was not there, the whole city has been removed.
Can you imagine that I was able to see the Palestinian Egyptian borders from Khanyounis? The buildings of the city are flattened.
People of Rafah have been going for two days now everyday walking in the streets and finding it really hard to recognise the places, some are so lucky that their homes were partially damaged (still unliveable) so they can at least see it, saying goodbye to all the memories, but the majority couldn’t.
I lived in this beautiful city for 3 months, I was displaced and it was full of life.. it was home, I am really heartbroken for the people who saw their homes today, and I can’t imagine how will I live this in my city, next week when I can finally return to the North.
A genocide against everyone and everything.. that’s the occupation’s identity/ agenda. 2:15 AM @eid_yara Dear Ibrahim, or shall I say dear best friend,
By now everyone knows you as my closest bestie, as my backbone, as my brother who was always there for me, as my partner in passion and journalism, and as my talented cameraman. Today after more than 400 days of killing passionate people like you, beautiful souls like yours, brothers, sisters, mothers and lovers, babies and animals. And after destroying our beautiful city that we always dreamt of photographing together and making films about, and after bombing our homes and our favourite cafes and even our offices, they announced that there will be a ceasefire.
But it’s too late.. and even if I cried today because I saw videos of my people celebrating going home, there was a big void inside me, a void that cannot be filled since you were gone.
You were my everything Ibrahim, and we dreamt together and we wanted to do many things, one of them was to travel the world together as cliché as it sounds. But we wanted to film the world around us and show its beauty. I’m sorry the world failed you. And we never got to see anything except its ugliness.
Days pass, and I can’t believe they do. They pass and you’re always on my mind. You were the first person I wanted to share the news of the ceasefire with. It’s always you first.. but you’re not here and I cannot tell you that I’m going back home, I’m going back to help rebuild our beautiful city but you’re not there..
It will be my first time to go back to Gaza and not have you by my side. I won’t go to our favourite places where we made most of our memories because they no longer exist, just like you…
I want to promise you something habibi, I will never forget the sound of your laugh, and I will never forget the shape of your smile, and I will never ever stop talking about you.
It’s all for you. Me not giving up, my passion and my journalism it’s all for you.
You are with me in every step and I want to make you proud forever.
Rest in strength and peace, my dear. I miss you everyday as if it’s the first day I’ve lost you. I keep going for you. I will call my son Ibrahim and I will teach him to carry your beautiful legacy ahead.
Palestine misses you. We all do 
