I appeal to the generous people to help my mother. She suffers from a chronic illness and needs treatment and surgeries. She has four daughters. I implore you to help my mother, and may your donation be a means for you to enter Paradise.💔🙏😔👇
https://t.co/4vUOZyEG6U
My campaign link might pass quietly by you , but for me it is a whole life that I cling to. It's been 20 days since I received any donations, but my need hasn't stopped and my pain won't wait. Please don't let my silence go unheard. Please don't ignore my family. We rely on your
I haven’t received any generous donation for two months. The situation is indescribable. My child screams every day. He wants milk and diapers.
Be with me in my crisis https://t.co/pQiwuzcSxe🫰🏼
Türkiye'deki ailem, desteğinize ihtiyacımız var. Yardımcı olabilecek herkese teşekkür ederiz; küçük bağışlar bile büyük fark yaratır. Anneme yardım etmek için bu link üzerinden veya USDT yoluyla bağış yapabilirsiniz.
https://t.co/ZcY7SZHAny
@BulentY_@c4rkovski@Aylin0936
We write to you with all our pain and sorrow… Will you let us suffer even more?
We are not asking for the impossible, we are only asking for a chance to survive… My child deserves to live, to eat, to feel safe like other children
We plead with you in all our pain💔
Soad😭👇🏻
https://t.co/OsYEcH6STs
Kocamı ve sevgili oğlumu kaybettikten sonra kalbimdeki acı hiç bitmiyor. Şimdi yapayalnız, desteksiz, barınaksız ve geçimini sağlayacak kimse olmadan kaldım. Allah onlara merhamet etsin. 😭💔
https://t.co/xXW6e40E3y
Today, I witnessed something that reminded me how quietly a human heart can break.
Not in a hospital. Not beneath the rubble.
But inside a crowded trailer on the journey home.
On my way back from the clinic, I climbed into one of Gaza’s new “buses,” a trailer pulled behind an aging car.
More than ten people were crammed onto narrow wooden benches. Others stood in the aisle, swaying helplessly as the trailer lurched over roads carved open by craters and strewn with rubble.
By the time you reached your destination, every bone in your body ached.
So did your dignity.
But there was no other way.
There is something peculiar about these journeys.
Privacy does not exist.
One conversation quickly becomes everyone’s conversation.
If you want to understand Gaza today, sit quietly in one of these trailers.
You will hear people’s fears before you ever learn their names.
Two men happened to recognize one another. They spoke like old colleagues meeting for the first time since before the war.
One began asking about the people they had once worked alongside.
“This one managed to leave Gaza.” “That one is displaced in the south.” “Another is living in a tent.”
One by one, the familiar faces from their former workplace had disappeared, scattered across camps, borders, and foreign countries.
It was as though they had never shared the same mornings.
Then came the final question.
“So… where are you and your family living now?”
The man lowered his eyes.
Then, in a voice so quiet it seemed to still the air itself, he answered.
“Our house was bombed.” “May God have mercy on my wife and children.”
“Only my little boy and I survived.”
No one spoke after that.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because there are moments before which language simply surrenders.
I kept thinking about the way he had spoken.
Not with tears. Not with anger.
Only with quiet acceptance.
“May God have mercy on them.”
As though an entire lifetime of love, laughter, birthdays, arguments, dreams, and ordinary evenings could somehow be gathered into a single prayer.
People often ask when this war will end.
But how does it end for a father like him? What ceasefire gives a man back his wife? What agreement returns his children? What victory could ever warm a heart buried beneath the ruins of its own home?
Some wars end with signatures. Others continue for the rest of a person’s life.
I think every passenger in that trailer understood, in that long silence, that the heaviest ruins in Gaza are no longer the ones made of concrete.
They are the ones people carry home within their hearts.
#WoundedGaza
Because of the severe weather and strong winds, the tarp we rely on for protection fell down 💔 We are now exposed to the rain and struggling to stay safe. Please, we really need your help
I need your support — the link is in my bio 💔
Today our house was burned down due to mixed electrical cables. We have lost everything, and we are in urgent need of help. My two little brothers are suffering, and we do not have a safe place or basic necessities right now. : https://t.co/JVe557IEme
https://t.co/87Cu4MzFEx
I am a mother of four children from Gaza. I need a friend from a European country to help us leave Gaza. The situation is catastrophic. Please share this to reach compassionate European countries.
Every day feels harder, but I’m still trying to stay strong for my little daughter. 💔
We truly need your support to survive and give her a safer life.
Any donation or even a simple share can help us more than you know. 🙏
#Gaza#Donate#HelpGaza#SingleMother#SupportGaza
It seems my account has been temporarily limited, and my replies are no longer visible. If you see this post, please help by reposting or engaging with it so my voice can be heard again. Every share makes a difference. Thank you. ❤️
Imagine spending your whole childhood living in a tent.
A home that doesn’t protect you from heat or insects. 💔
Help me build a better life and find dignity.
Every share or support can change my future. 🙏
https://t.co/7VPrAM8ICT