I spent 11 hours walking the road to north Gaza, the long road home. It was a journey I had been dreaming of for a year and four months.
The hike was long and hard: the road destroyed by tanks, bulldozers, and bombing. I saw an old man die along the way – his children crowded around him, trying to give him artificial respiration, calling for help from the air. There was a pregnant woman in tears, she said she had gone into premature labour from the pressure of the walk.
