Life Through Her Eyes

Where to now? Where can I go that is safe, but still call home? If hospitals, UN schools, mosques, and churches are not safe, where can I seek shelter? My home was bombed on day 15 The seventh in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

In a world where kids dream about being superheroes, there are kids who do not get to dream In a world where a mother is worried about her kid's future, there is a mother whose kids were murdered The sixth in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

At 7 days old Your eyes are still blurry. All you do is eat and sleep You cry, a lot People are happy you're here You are swamped with love and kisses on your sweet little face. The fifth in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

Does it scare you when I smile despite my pain? Does it scare you that I'm living while surviving you? Does it scare you to be an inspiration for revolutionary art? The fourth in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

On October the 9th 2023, I am asked to speak at an international live-streaming webinar about “youth participation in humanitarian emergencies and why it is important”. The third in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

On the day that the youngest victim in Gaza was 3 hours old, I was asked what gives me hope I laughed; I really thought she was joking Up until that day, six of my friends have lost their homes A hospital was bombed Two of my friends sent me a farewell text I had a meltdown about socks The second in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej

It is normal to think your friend is dead when they do not pick up. It is normal to continue work after receiving an “I don’t know if I'm gonna live until tomorrow” text from your friend. The first in a series from Palestinian artist and writer Rand Sayej