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This photo is of a young man named Omar Hamad, who grew up in a small town called Beit Hanoun, in the far north of Gaza. He never longed for anything more than a peaceful home and a beautiful flower in the yard to talk to when the burdens of life weighed heavily on him. But suddenly, the hyenas stormed into our home — they devoured us, robbed us, tore our hearts apart, and left us with nothing but loss and deep sorrow. This photo is of a young man who is supposed to be 29 years old. But that age is only theoretical — I feel like an old man. The aches in my joints remind me of my grandmother and the endless bag of medicine she kept in her room. Her knee ointment never left her purse. I walk a little, no more than 200 meters, and I find myself needing to sit down to rest. But the moment I sit on the edge of the road, I feel even more exhausted than before. Maybe hunger plays a big role in that, but I know it’s not just hunger. Hunger alone didn’t destroy us. I look at our home in my mind and try to find the words to apologize to it for all the times I felt bored while living in it. But no words of apology are enough. Then I look at my simple bookshelf in my room and apologize for all the times that passed without reading a single page. I miss the most beautiful habit I used to have — reading. I try so hard to read now, but my heart and mind are occupied with things that should be basic in this world — occupied with food and water. I constantly apologize to my past life for every moment I ever felt bored.