The genocide continues, and with it the endless Israeli massacres, claiming the lives of young and old, day and night. Israeli bombs illuminate the dark nights of Gaza, turning its days into volcanoes of flame and black smoke, tearing apart the remains of children and innocents who have become confined to the land of Gaza, burdened with pain. In this small corner of the world, Gaza is Gaza, where life intermingles with death, and dreams fade amidst destroyed alleys and the rubble of homes. There are people clinging to life amidst the death that lurks around them. In Gaza, stones scream, but no one hears them; sidewalks weep, but no one consoles them; and the earth groans under the weight of corpses that have become embedded in the dust, as if it had never been filled with hope. Here, where children learn the names of death before the names of letters and colors, they do not know why their blood is being shed, why their homes are being bombed, and why their innocence must be torn to shreds. Children who have become accustomed to hearing the sound of planes instead of the chirping of birds, and whose toys have become holes in the ground in which they hide from a blind shell searching for small bodies to uproot from life..