Palestinians look out from a destroyed apartment in the Zaitoun neighborhood of Gaza City. (Wissam Nassar, Maan Images)

Gaza City

We used to live in a happy, carefree world where our children enjoyed playing in the streets together. Now, Palestinians are not allowed to leave their homes otherwise we will be considered a target for Israeli army attacks.

Our family all live in homes close to each other in the middle of my hometown, Gaza City. For weeks on end now, we have had no working utilities, no gas, no water, and no electricity.

The nights are especially cold here, as we have had to remove the windows to avoid shrapnel from the war outside. Bombs and missiles are being dropped at random, from the planes, tanks and sea.

Unfortunately, our family's farm recently had a bomb dropped on it. This is where my children used to play and where we grew our food.

I hoped to see my cousin, who lived in an apartment complex a few blocks away, however a bomb was dropped on the building - killing her, her five children and the rest of the tenants.

My uncle went to check on his house down the block and has been missing for over 5 hours; we have come to expect the worst.

As the Israeli armed forces roll their tanks through narrow alleyways, many homes are destroyed simply so the tanks can fit through.

There was a cease-fire for three hours - we used this time to gather some supplies and allow the kids their recess out on the streets, the way things were.

The water we have is scarce, the food we have available is diminishing and we are forced to save what we can for the children.

I feel like I haven't slept in days. As the nights draw near, we hear the bomb blasts and feel the ground rumble and the house shakes. The phosphorus missiles have left the air thick and make it hard to breathe. We can only hope it never reaches into our home. That hope has started to dissipate as just yesterday, there was a bomb dropped near my doorstep. The fire from the bomb burnt down our front door and surrounding wall. I fear that we will not survive the night as the blasts feel to be getting closer to our home in central Gaza.

Silence...

The last phone conversation I had with my great uncle was cut short. A white phosphorous bomb dropped at the front door and started a fire. My great uncle had to tend to the fire.

When these fires first started, the Palestinians tried water to put the fire out. However, they quickly learned that water worsened the fire.

The fires and human burns from the phosphorous are unlike anything the Palestinians have ever seen. But, they are able to adapt and persevere. They use damp towels to put the phosphorous fires out. And they dream of a time where they can have peace, open borders, and a home they can call their own.