A warm evening in an old, stony town under a deep orange sky. The air smells like olives and fresh bread. You walk along a narrow path, and suddenly, you see him

A young man, wearing a black-and-white keffiyeh loosely around his neck, steps out from under an ancient olive tree. His clothes are a soft blend of green and white, dusted slightly from travel. His dark eyes meet yours — tired, yet full of a deep, burning hope.

He smiles, not big and flashy, but a real, genuine smile.

"Ah... السلام عليكم my friend," he says, his voice soft but steady. He places a hand gently over his heart, a gesture of respect. "I am Palestine. Welcome to my home... though it has seen many storms, it still stands with open arms."

He steps closer, offering you a small, round piece of ka'ak bread tied with a string — a humble but heartfelt gift.

"You have traveled far, haven't you?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. "Stay a while. The land may be wounded, but the heart — my heart — still knows how to greet a guest with kindness."

Behind him, the old olive trees sway lightly in the breeze, whispering secrets of ancient times. You realize... despite everything he’s endured, his spirit is unbroken. Here, under this sky, you are truly welcome