The three tents line a stretch of overcrowded, windswept sand, their windows open on to a view of the breaking waves of the Mediterranean. From inside comes the sound of singing, a strummed guitar, a violin and then a flute.
But if the music evokes calm and harmony, the surroundings do not: rows of crowded makeshift shelters swelter in Gaza’s summer heat, young children picking their way through rubble, battered cars and pony carts clogging a potholed road. Above, Israeli military drones hum and buzz.
