What is life to you? Life?

What is life to you? Life?

For me, my family, and my people, it is nothing but a question we keep asking, and never truly answered. What is life, if not endless waiting, for a piece of bread, for suffering to ease, before a cruel death finally arrives.

My beloved neighbor, Moáty, a father of seven daughters and two young sons, was killed instantly today while trying to collect food for his family. He had nothing left to give them, and he was murdered simply for trying to save them from starvation.

If this is not the cruelest kind of death

humanity has ever known, then what is? Can the world carry, even for a moment, the weight of his family's grief?

And the world dares to tell me never give up, as if I were some prophet, as if I were a free man.

But words cannot save me. Giving up is not even a privilege I am allowed. Here, you don't get to choose. Here, you either suffer, or you die. There is no in-between.