Alarm, wake up. beepbeepbeep. My hand hits an unfamiliar bedside table, no alarm. My mobile phone. Groggy with not having slept properly in days, feels like weeks. But alert - the exhaustion of adrenaline pushing through my veins, coffee and wine dried on my lips. I can hardly remember what my own bed feels like.

The days and nights are folding into each other. I shower – then put on the same clothes I have been wearing for days. I left Ramallah in sandals – it was sunny that day. Now I dread the cold damp of them from days of rain and hail, the mud from the demonstration at the checkpoint two days ago. Wilted pieces of chopped onion still in my jacket pocket, your air to breathe when teargas is fired.

Does my head hurt from pressing the phone to my ear all day, or from the words –same, same, same- the words-

…missing….searched…..disappeared…violence

soldiers …snipers… military siege

trapped…. hiding in hallway….. bombing ….. scared

…no food no water… am alone…need milk

….injured …siege shelling

scared…..tanks bulldozers …. ambulances shot

….no medicine….children…… no electricity

fear……..silence.

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