“Crowds surged in - thousands of people. There was no order at all,” Jehad al-Assar, 31, told Al Jazeera. “People rushed towards the yard where aid boxes were stacked and moved into the inner hall, where there were more supplies.
I write not to wound. I write to insist.I insist that Palestinian lives matter.
I insist that Palestinians cannot be erased by edict, force, and intimidation.I insist that mourning should not be a daily ritual for any people.I insist that justice cannot be selective and humanity must be universal.
I insist that Palestinian children rediscover the fullness of life beyond occupation, terror, and grief.I insist that Palestinian children, like our children, have the chance, again, to play, to learn, and to thrive.
I insist that the killing lust that has gripped a nation like a fever that will not break, has to be broken.
Too much damage has been done.“I think I must have been to more than 10 or 15 of these forest gatherings,” Vallejo recalls. Other times, they met in churches. No records of these exist.
Vallejo’s synthetic memory of these meetings is in black and white. The image is vague, almost like someone has taken an eraser to it to blur the details. But it is still possible to make out the scene: a crowd of people gathered in a forest. Some sit, others stand beneath a canopy of trees.Looking at the image, Vallejo says he felt transported to the clandestine assemblies in the Barcelona woods, where as many as 50 or 60 people would gather in a tense atmosphere.
“I found myself truly immersed in the image,” he says.“It was like entering a kind of time tunnel,” he adds.