Who is the elderly woman who came to you from one of the shelter schools in Gaza, bringing you bread with her? I followed what you had written about her with great attention and love. You described her visit to you with great care. You said that she advanced toward the tent, climbed four steps, planted kisses on your forehead before telling you that she had searched a lot for you, and that it was she, herself, who had made for you the bread that she had brought with her… Who is she, man? Your statement that she is an elderly woman keeps us from understanding that a physical kinship connects you with her. Did she search for you in order to offer you due condolences (as late as I did) for the beast’s assassination of parts of your own flesh and blood, and due love for your toiling in conveying the truth to the world? I am talking to you as a friend. In our home, we were brought up to eat the food that my mother prepares. The fast food culture did not convince us. We believed that my mother not only provides us with food, but with her love along with it, as well. Blessed are you for this love. You are worthy. It is really pleasant for every woman from my country to become a mother to me!
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