Can you also see the five thousand Gazans who invaded Israel on October 7 to murder, burn, rape and kidnap?
Can you also see the hundreds of kilometers of Hamas tunnels, dug underneath civilians, using them as human shields? Or perhaps how Hamas fighters brought Israeli hostages to Shifa hospital?
Can you perhaps hear, in the memory of your ears, the chants of “Allahu Akbar”, as “ordinary Gazans” were ecstatic beyond control as they lynched wounded Israeli hostages dragged into Gaza?
Can you for once in your entitled life understand that actions have consequences?
You know what I can’t hear, and haven’t heard from Gaza? A call for peace with Israel, while accepting reality that the Jews live in their ancestral homeland.
For me, as a Palestinian from Gaza who survived the ongoing genocide, when I look at the rubble of homes on Google Maps, I am not seeing only the remains of buildings, which from far look like a decaying wall.
I am seeing the remains of people whose bodies were crushed beneath walls and ceilings they painted with their own hands.
I see children’s toys. Books. Backpacks. Coloring pencils. An unfinished meal. Blankets. Shoes. Photo frames of grandparents whose grandchildren never met. An old key to a home in Yaffa or Haifa.
I can also hear the last words of a broadcaster on the radio before the news occurred, before the radio was broken and the family crushed.
No breaking news there. No news at all.