“It’s so quiet here, all I can hear is my thoughts,” Plestia Alaqad says as we begin our walk through a suburban park on a cold, overcast afternoon in Melbourne’s suburbs.
After we exchange greetings (“At least it’s not raining”), she makes it clear she doesn’t want me to publish our exact location. Almost two years have passed since she fled Gaza with her mother, sister and grandmother, fearing that her role as a journalist could put their lives in danger. That fear still lingers.
