“His name is Yusuf, He is seven years old, he’s curly-haired, he’s white, and he’s beautiful.”

A story of a Palestinian child that shook the world.

“Mommy, Mommy, I am hungry, I want to eat.”

“Do not worry my son, I will make a tomato frying pan for you.”

I went out to Maryam’s house, in search of two tomatoes. She is my closest neighbor and friend.

I told him to close the door tightly until I returned, as his father was in the hospital doing his duty, and no one could go except me. I went quickly and prayed to God to bless them both for me. I knocked on Maryam’s door several times, but no one answered, so I went to Nada’s house on the other side of the street, hoping to find two tomatoes to control Yusuf’s hunger. I hate to be far away from him, but there is nothing to eat in the house anymore. These seven days of war have been the hardest thing in my whole life.

“How are you, and how is Yusuf? Hopefully the bombing did not reach you,” Nada asked as she carefully opened her door.

“I am good, as you can see. May God protect us all.”

I repeated the answer to Nada and asked her about the tomatoes. People

in war are not in the mood for long conversations, where every