My life in Gaza: ‘We burned our copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four to bake bread. What would Orwell think of us now?’

Near al-Nabulsi Square I saw a “hizam nari” – a ribbon of fire across the sky. Fighter jets carved a line of explosions above Gaza City, one after another; ash clouds rose and everything below them was erased. I counted five, six rockets – then stopped counting because counting felt useless. I have...

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