Dearest darling, my darling,

How are you, my darling? Have you finished reading Dostoevsky and dwelling in his world of sorrow? I’m still out here in the field, tucked in a quiet corner with garlic bread dipped in olive oil and a cup of black tea. I find myself longing for that gezelligheid—a warm, home-cooked meal, hot and comforting, shared slowly at our own dining table. Such a simple form of toujours reconnaissant—to sit and eat with one’s family. I miss those moments, and I miss you most of all. I miss pulling out a chair for you, holding your hands as we eat, sometimes sharing meals, sometimes a drink. I miss your scent. Oh my darling, my darling, my darling.

The sky is dark now that the heavy rain has finally stopped. I’m hoping for even a small glimpse of the Orionids tonight. I missed the Leonids on November 17 because the sky was soaked with storm clouds. This month has been rich with celestial wonders. On November 21, Uranus stood in opposition to the Sun. The next day, Comet 210P/Christensen reached its perihelion. Tomorrow, the Moon will be in conjunction with Saturn, and on November 30, Mars will reach apogee. And in the midst of all this, scientists have confirmed the existence of a ninth planet in our solar system, while the James Webb Telescope has detected what may be the universe’s first stars.

Winter here has brought relentless rain and flooding. According to the Gaza Rights Centre, 74% of tents in Gaza are unfit for living. Most are completely flooded. The water has nowhere to drain; everything is soaked—mattresses, clothing, blankets, pillows, even flour. Having a tent at all is already considered luck. Some families sleep on the streets. Some men dig caves for their wives and children. Many tents have collapsed. A single tent costs around 2,000–3,000 shekels, a price far beyond reach. And still they sleep in tents filled with floodwater—uncomfortable, cold, and barely livable—yet life has to go on. Do they have a choice?

How long can people live like this? I believe that as long as they remain here, the killing will continue. Shimon Tobul, Deputy Mayor of Beersheba, said in an interview, “We had a golden opportunity to erase this thing called Gaza! Kill 100–150 thousand of them every day.” Such words are devoid of humanity. And who will stop this? The Arab League? The OIC? No international body has halted this genocide. Saudi Arabia is expanding its investments in the U.S. from $600 billion to $1 trillion, and almost in the same breath, the U.S. has agreed to supply the kingdom with F-35 jets. Meanwhile, the UAE invested $11.5 million in an Israeli weapons firm—the future becomes painfully clear.

UNRWA has accused Israel of causing preventable, man-made starvation in Gaza. How can anyone afford a tent when every waking hour is spent searching for food or waiting for aid? Israel allows only one-third of aid trucks to enter under the ceasefire terms, while the Gaza Media Office reports that malnutrition now exceeds 90% of the population. The Max Planck Institute for Demographic Research estimates at least 100,000 deaths, with a median of 112,069—a figure significantly higher than the Gaza Health Ministry’s reported 67,173 for the same period. As the co-leader said, “The exact number of dead is unknown.”

Humanity has died. They managed to deliver a massive shipment of cellphones, yet not a single container of chicken arrived safely—most of it spoiled, unusable. The intention feels questionable, especially with reports alleging that some Samsung A17 models have malfunctioned or even exploded in residents’ hands—devices critics say may contain Israeli surveillance tools. Leaked documents circulating in the media claim that Israel’s intelligence services have used Microsoft’s cloud infrastructure to store communications. With the Red Fox monitoring network layered on top, many Gazans feel they have almost no privacy left.

During the Bosnian War, there was an unspeakable atrocity called “human safaris,” where snipers shot civilians for sport. Now, similar allegations echo here—claims that wealthy individuals travel to Israel to engage in human safaris. In war, civilian lives are treated as worthless. Leaders focus only on their objectives, regardless of the cost. John Kiriakou, a former CIA analyst, said in a podcast that if Israel wants one specific person dead, they will strike even if two thousand civilians stand around that target. They will bomb as long as the mission is completed. It is always about them—the mission never counts lost lives or human suffering.

I have read Mahmoud Darwish’s poem “The wars will end and the leaders will shake hands” several times. I wanted to let it settle in me again. Its meaning sinks deep; every line carries sorrow and the echo of impossible loss. I wish I could write to you more often, but words are not like mathematics—sometimes they flow freely, and sometimes even a single sentence resists. You always said I’m a mathematician lost inside a manuscript. Writing may not be my gift, but I love journaling and writing to you. It helps me understand myself and the world around me. For me, writing is another way of breathing. Write, so you won’t forget.

露の世は

露の世ながら

さりながら

This world is dew—yes,

only dew, yet tenderness

still refuses to fade.

(Kobayashi Issa)

Love,

 

Abang

Nov 28, 2025