For 581 consecutive days, Gaza has lived under fire. The Israeli military campaign—marked by ceaseless airstrikes, siege, and mass civilian casualties—shows no sign of abating, leaving Palestinians to mourn their dead, search for bread, and cling to what remains of life amid ruins.

Since March 18, nearly 1,800 Palestinians have been killed and around 3,000 wounded. Most are women and children. The total death toll now exceeds 52,700, while over 119,000 have been injured since the war began in October. Entire families are being erased from civil records, not just homes.

This is not merely a military operation; it is a war waged on survival itself. Gaza’s borders remain sealed, and humanitarian access is almost entirely denied. Basic ingredients for bread are vanishing, and the looming threat of famine compounds the trauma of bombs.

From the targeted strike on the Hamdan family home in Nuseirat to air raids flattening homes and markets across Gaza City, Beit Hanoun, and Rafah, the narrative is grimly repetitive: civilians killed in their sleep, children pulled lifeless from rubble, mothers silenced mid-prayer. There is no safe zone left.

Displaced people sheltering in tents are being hit. Markets and mosques, residential buildings and pharmacies—no structure is spared. With every blast, another child’s future is buried, another name is added to the growing list of the disappeared.

Yet, amid all this, Gaza continues to resist despair. The people mourn, yes, but they also endure—because in the face of annihilation, resilience becomes a form of resistance.