"Why did she have to leave?" staring at the sleeping bodies of seven helpless creatures, brothers and sisters sharing the same room he asked himself and the sky, the question played in his mind over and over again like a broken record as he sat motionless on the edge of his worn barely standing bed, as he got no replies for his question from sky, he managed to ask the sleeping children. He knew nothing ever remained constant, but in the miserable two decades he had been living nothing had changed, his life remained entombed in a house of two rooms occupied by ten persons, a house located in the poorest and most miserable part of Gaza, with cold winter winds penetrating through the cracks in the walls like devils scaring his thoughts, and rain drops ruin his sleep, dropping through the holes in the asbestos sealing like bullets filled in wine for ages specially for his forehead. Here in this burnt out land of misery and grief, roses still bloomed and wilted too soon. Doomed arid wombs echoed the blooms process, but many failed to produce the succession needed to sustain life, even those that succeeded were meant to dry out of life and joy sooner than their childhood joy.

He went back in memory to old days when life was a sweet summer night, when moon had laid full and fair, he tried to remember but he remember nothing, but he knows they were one family once before his parents had divorced when he was just four months old. He thinks how cruel his father had been, once when his parents divorced after the mother had amnesia, and a second time when he had decided to ruin his children's childhood by bringing the family from Jordan to Gaza Inferno.

From the dark corners fate had managed to entomb him, the spring brought a mirage of sun and heat, the wind licking the sky's wounds, carrying smells of cremated hearts and souls. The smoke of the deceased played in the air, creating fleeting glimpses of the departed amongst the people and the children's innocent eyes beckoned an answer as to whom the smoke portrayed. What happened? How did he die? Was it a legacy of the occupation? The intra-faction fighting? Or possibly some religious fanatic, acting as executioner? Gone were the heady days of spring past; where sweetness filled the air and women wore their lipstick which enhanced their beauty, for the Anemone flowers now refused to grow.

Riddled with inner demons, he no longer dreamt of Utopia for him or his fellow man. Why had God ruined these hopes and ambitions? The duality of his personality still longed for the dreams of a young man but encircling that, an old man grieved with despair for the misery, brutality and the never-ending futility of hope he had witnessed. Of failures past and those still to come.

He went back in memory to childhood days, he had joys and sorrows, happiness and fears, worries, regards and disregards. Memories carried him back to joys he had lost, innocence, friends, a neighbor's daughter, and a forest of almond trees he used to plunder after school with friends.

His ambitions were tiny as a rain drop, but heavy with all life disregards, as a butterfly blinded by the lights of a fire, and got burnt when it had come closer. Misery had overturned him due time, and memories had exhausted him. Still he longed for long for a flute whines, and a spring aura. Eyes had been sleeping peacefully in the core of a ravaging distemper stream.

With everyday experience he found himself searching for an unusual feeling, something different than melancholy, searched for happiness, and pleasure but couldn't had found. People were people, they lied, yelled and passed away swiftly, hence he decided to be him, he was a child of flesh ,blood, soul and thoughts. Waseem, that’s how they called the child, at a moment of silence and emptiness, madness ravaged his life, and the devils occupied his mind, consequently he began to understand life the hard way, and the game began.

If he wished to marry, he mated all women through his childish eyes, If he wanted to have children, he loved all the children of the city, To get money he used to lie, to get friends he had to sophisticate, to get in love he spent nights sleepless with papers and pens drawing or writing about an imagery love, to dream he used to watch cats' eyes, to comfort he cried, to praise god he read Nietzsche, and when he wanted to commit suicide he fell in love with life.

He recalls the steps taken that very day. He woke early as normal; showered and sat an exam. Routines conducted without thought. A little scuffle, words uttered in justice but without value. Searching for some detail to gain order to disorder.

Gaza was desperate on the rusty edge of misery and poverty, an underage virgin had been raped and left bare on a dark deserted windy corner unprotected from the untamed passersby, the savage shadows of death, and the never ending calls for pandemonium.