Miguel Ángel Revilla – politician

Jordi Évole – journalist

Irene Villa – journalist

Esther Vaquero – journalist

Andoni Luis Aduriz – chef

Inocencio Arias – diplomat

El Monaguillo – Humorist and journalist

Javi Royo – artist and illustrator

Marwán – Singer-songwriter

Itziar Ituño – actress and singer

Marina Lobo – comedian and screenwriter

Nuria Tesón – journalist and writer

Chantal Vizcaíno – illustrator and artivist

Susana Abaitua – actress

Carlos Bardem – actor and writer

Fernando Cayo – actor and musician

Elisabet Gelabert – actress

Emma Vilarasau – actress

Macaco – singer

Jazmin Abuin – comedian, actress, singer

Marta Nieto – actress

Macarena de Rueda – actress

Patricia Benito – writer

Jameela Al-Muntasir Bellah

“I hate going to fetch water, washing dishes, soup kitchens, war, canned meat and all canned food. What I like is school, my phone, toys, restaurants, and traditional food.”

Dima

I hope the war ends and everything goes back to how it was before. I want to shower with running water, go back to school, and become a dentist. I want the border to open so that chocolate, French fries, and chicken can come back in. I want to tell my friends not to lose hope and to hold on to their dreams.

María Salah Al-Din

Today is Thursday, May 1, 2025. I am a 10-year-old Palestinian girl named Maria, living in Gaza under the rubble of my destroyed home, beneath the roar of planes and the endless sound of rockets that never leave the sky of my country.
Oh world, wake up from your sleep and save what remains of Gaza’s children from hunger, pain, oppression, and death in all its forms.
Let me tell you about my experience in this cursed war. A missile fell on us like a lightning strike. The sound was terrifyingly close to me and my family. I was injured in my head and my hand. When they stitched my wounds, they couldn’t give me anesthesia—I felt every painful stitch in my head and hand.
What did I do to deserve this pain that even mountains couldn’t bear? What did my little heart do to witness so much agony?
This war has shattered the dreams of Gaza’s children. I once dreamed of becoming a doctor—an angel of mercy in a white coat, soothing the pain of her patients, easing their sorrow, and prescribing medicine that brings them back to life and health.

Retaj Mustafa

I am a girl named Retaj, and I am 11 years old. I feel like I’ve aged 10 years because of this war. We used to live a peaceful life, and now we wake up to complete destruction. In my own words as a child, I want to tell you about myself. I love learning, and I wish I had a new notebook and a new pen. I also wish I had new clothes for Eid.
We were sleeping peacefully in our home, and we woke up to war. Out of fear and destruction, we had to leave. I left my toy behind in our house. We were displaced to the south and spent over a year suffering—moving from house to house, tent to tent, bombing to bombing, fear to fear.
Despite everything, we returned to the north. But sadly, I didn’t find my home, my toy, my notebook, or my pen. Even my Eid clothes were all destroyed. I hope the war ends so I can go back to school and play with my friends again.

Amal Nael

“I am 11 years old. I used to have a good life, but the war ruined it. My school was destroyed. I wish I could go back to school and see my teachers again. I also want to visit Jordan and play with my uncle. I love him very much.”

Joud Bilal

“I wished to spend the winter in our new house, but we couldn’t. We lacked food during the war, and even when it came back, it was too expensive. I want to finish my studies and become a police officer.”

Razan Khali

“I am a person with a great future, and the world is waiting for me. My dream was to become an engineer. Before the war, I was working towards that dream, but now there are no schools. Sometimes I even say that I wasn’t born in Gaza. I don’t want to talk about my suffering, not because I need a page, but because I would need many books.”

Dima Majed

First of all, I wish the war would end and that we could go back to the way things used to be — my family and I together in our home, but the people we loved are gone. I wish the schools would reopen because we have a future, and I dream of becoming a dentist.
I don’t want to be displaced again because we have already suffered too much. Every day we wake up to news of a hundred martyrs, fires, and wounded people; it’s exhausting. I wish all of this were just a nightmare from which I could wake up.
Our dreams and our future are lost. I also wish the border crossings would open. We are under siege, and there is no food.
Even normal life is terrible. There is nothing in the markets, and we can’t afford to buy anything. We are tired of living in tents, the heat, the soup kitchens, and the water situation.
I lost the dearest person in my life, my father, who was my support in this world. May God help my mother carry us through. I go to sleep with the fear of losing more loved ones, but even so, I have great hope in God.
Despite everything we are going through, we are still standing firm. God willing, this war will end peacefully, and we will not lose anyone else we love. I ask you all to keep your faith in God, never give up, look to the future, and never stop dreaming.

Sama Yousef

“I want to feel safe again, for the war to end, and for our beautiful days to return. I hope to go back to school and never lose my family.”

Sameer Raed

I wish I had a bicycle and a house. I don’t want to live in a tent. I want the border to open so we can eat chicken, meat, fish and fruit.
I don’t want to live in a hot tent full of flies and rats. When I was in the South, I dreamt of returning to Gaza and finding it as it was, but I found it destroyed. When we returned, our house was in ruins and burned.
All my clothes and toys were burnt. My loved ones and siblings were dead. I wish I had a telephone.
When we came back, I wanted to go to school, but I found it destroyed. Many teachers were killed. We haven’t had classes for almost two years.
Now I live in a tent and I dream of becoming a policeman or an engineer to serve my people and my neighbors whom I love so much.

Maha Mohannad

“I wish the scabies outbreak would end and we could return to our beautiful life. I want the crossings to open so we can eat chicken, figs, bananas, and chocolate. I want to become a doctor and for our lives to be safe again.”

Seline Alaa

I am one of the children of Gaza. My name is Celine, and I am 14 years old. My life used to be stable—I had a beautiful home and lived with my family. I went to school every morning, and my dream was to become a doctor. But then the war came. It destroyed our home and everything around us. It is my right to play and learn. And it is the right of every child in Gaza to have these basic rights.
Fear entered our hearts when we were trapped in Rafah, in the south of the Strip. After they dropped leaflets and threatened us, we were forced to flee to Deir al-Balah. Each time we were displaced, the suffering grew worse than before. I truly hope this war ends with safety and peace, that we survive it, and that I can stay alive.

Amal Nael

“I’m 11 years old. I used to have a good life, but the war ruined it. My school was destroyed. I wish I could go back to school and see my teachers. I also want to visit Jordan and play with my uncle. I love him very much.”

Majd Ali

Suddenly, there were explosions, rockets, and bombings. We didn’t go to school. My brother Ahmad and I started crying in the street from fear, and we ran home.
An evacuation was announced in Al-Shuja’iya, so we went to Al-Zahra in the central area. We lived there for 12 days. We had to flee the tower three times because of the bombing in the area. On the last day, all the towers were evacuated. Thirty towers were bombed in a single day. We ran and cried from fear. There wasn’t even time to go anywhere safe.
My mother was devastated and terrified for us. We went to Palestine University, but the towers near the university were destroyed too. So, we decided to evacuate to the south. Those were the worst days of my life. I had no home, no school, no toys, and no clothes. We left everything behind because the situation was too hard. After the displacement, we finally returned to Gaza. It was completely destroyed—ruins everywhere. I was heartbroken when I couldn’t find our home, my toys, or my football club uniform. I loved football so much. Now I don’t even have a football, and I can’t ask my dad to buy one because it’s too expensive and he doesn’t have money.

I don’t even get allowance because the situation is so hard for my dad. I don’t want to burden him. My biggest dream is to play football again and have a football of my own. But I have no football, no gear—sometimes we don’t even have food. I tell my dad I want to eat cucumbers, but they’re too expensive and he can’t buy them for us. I just wish the war would end so I can live in peace again.

Younes Awad

“I lost all my uncles, cousins, and aunts. I want to go back to school, see my friends, and become a math teacher and a football player. We eat at the mosque because the crossings are closed and we don’t have money to buy vegetables and fruits—they’re too expensive. I go out in the morning to look for water and food there. I want the war to end so we can go back to our lives. We want to live in peace and safety. We want to live in a home, like we did before the war, not in a tent.”

Shahd Ahmed

I am a Palestinian girl, and I want to become a sports coach. I wish for the war to end so we can return to our homes and go back to school like we did before, and live in safety and peace. I want to tell you my story during the war. One day, on October 7, I was heading to school at 6 a.m. Suddenly, I heard the sound of rockets. We turned on the news and found out that war had started. We had to stop going to school and were displaced to the south.
I missed school so much. My love for school made me cry to my mother, telling her how much I wanted to go back.
Thank God, we returned to Gaza and now I go to school again—but it’s inside a tent in a shelter center. Thank you to the team:” Imad, Haneen, Ahmed, and Munjid”

Dima

I’m Dima, a 13-year-old girl. I remember that during the war on October 7, we were suddenly trapped and couldn’t get out because we were surrounded by the army. Soldiers entered our home and unleashed dogs—one of them bit my mother and another bit my uncle, who has Down syndrome. The soldiers locked my entire family in one room, then took my father out and put a black bag over his head—that’s what we saw. My father was tortured in the next room, and then they started beating him in front of us. After six hours of this torture, they took us all out of the house and gave us a white flag. They told us to get out of the area, but while we were walking, they kept shooting above our heads and beside us. We walked until they were far away from us.
We found a house where people welcomed us. When it got dark, we heard other neighbors coming out and we walked together, very afraid, but we were many, and we kept each other company. In the end, we reached an area outside our neighborhood. This is my sad story.

Huda Mohammed

“I would like to eat chicken. We’ve only had rice and humanitarian aid food. I want to go back to school and live in a real house with electricity.”

Habiba Mahmoud

When the war began, all my relatives sought refuge in our home. There was a family celebration we had been looking forward to, and I already had my dress prepared. But the war stole that joy from us.
We were displaced from the north without mattresses or clothes, living in torn tents after having lived in a large house. We stood in long lines at community kitchens to get something to eat. The food was bad—nothing like what my mom used to cook.
The bathrooms were communal and dirty, and we had to wait in line to use them.
We were denied privacy, personal hygiene, and school.
I loved my school so much, but I lost it because of the war.
We kept moving from one place to another, exhausted, taking down our torn tent and carrying it along with our belongings.
We didn’t have money to rent a car because transportation was too expensive.
I just want the war to end—nothing more. Only once it ends will I think about what else I might wish for.

Moahmmoud Bakroon

My name is Moahmmoud Bakroon, and I am 14 years old. I’m a boy who loves to play and values freedom. But when the war began and famine struck my city, I had to start working to help my family. Before the war, we lived happily — we ate, drank, and enjoyed life. Now, every day I pray to Allah: “Oh Allah, I wish this war would end so I can live like other children around the world.”

We are going through unbearable suffering. Sometimes, we can barely find anything to eat because prices are so high, and even the basics are hard to afford. I pray constantly for the war to end because I’m exhausted. I don’t feel alive — I feel dead inside. Every day we go out looking for food and water. My life is full of hardship. May Allah help me endure it. I hope it all ends.

Jameel

I’m Jameel and I’m 13 years old. I live in Shejaiya. Our displacement journey began from Shejaiya to Zaytoun. We were attacked there, so we had to flee again—to Rafah and then to Deir El Balah. It has been unbearable, especially because my father is blind, and I’m the one who helps him with all his needs. I just want to live like any other child in the world, but I don’t feel like I’m experiencing a real childhood. I spend my days collecting paper and firewood and bringing food and water for my family. There are seven people in my family, and I’m responsible for them because I’m the eldest. I only wish for a happy life, like the one other children are able to live. Sincerely, Jameel.

Maya Jamil Matar

Before the war, life was calm and peaceful. But everything changed the moment the bombs began to fall.

Our first displacement took us from Gaza City to Khan Younis, where we stayed for ten days. Then we returned to Al-Sabra and remained there until November 11, 2024. That’s when evacuation leaflets began falling from the sky. We fled once again, this time to the south, to Al-Nuseirat.

Finding food, water, and shelter became nearly impossible. I was injured in my face and forehead, and life grew unimaginably hard. There was no flour. We were therefore forced to eat animal feed meant for poultry and livestock just to survive.

The occupation forced us to flee again, this time to Rafah. But life there was just as harsh as it had been in Al-Sabra and Al-Nuseirat. From there, we were displaced yet again to the southern part of Al-Deir. There was nothing, no flour, no vegetables and, no clean water. A single bottle of water cost 4 shekels, and we didn’t even have enough money to buy one.

Even the charity kitchens couldn’t reach us. The hunger was so severe that people fought over food. We would return with empty pots and empty stomachs.

By the grace of God, we eventually made our way back to Gaza. This time to tents in the Al-Yarmouk area, in Al-Karim Camp. There, we finally met kind souls, sincere brothers and sisters who reminded us that goodness still exists, even in the darkest times.

Ahmad Majed

I woke up on October 7, getting ready to go to school. Suddenly, there were bombings, rockets, explosions. We ran out into the street, screaming and terrified, not knowing where to go. I ran out of fear. Later, leaflets were dropped in Shuja’iyya, where I live, calling for evacuation to the west of Gaza. We went to Al-Zahra, but that night, at 9 p.m., there was heavy bombing. We made another escape, this time to the nearby University of Palestine. When the bombing stopped, we returned home.

But on the 12th day of the war, at 8 p.m., the bombing was even more intense.

They ordered the evacuation of all the towers in Al-Zahra. It was the worst night of my life. I had to leave everything—my toys, my clothes, my food, everything I loved. I lost everything. Our home—the place where I felt safe—was completely destroyed.

We moved to Rafah and went through very hard days in Al-Mawasi. I had no food, no clothes, no pocket money. I had everything I loved—and now I have nothing.

I feel very sad. I can’t eat or play like other children. Everything is expensive, and my father can’t give me anything.

I had many dreams. One of them was to have my bicycle. I lost it. It hurts so much to see other children riding bikes. Once I told my dad I wanted one, and he said, “When we go back home, you’ll find it there.” But the house was destroyed… and so was the bicycle.

I wish we could eat fresh vegetables again and be able to buy them. We’ve been deprived of proper food; we only eat from charity kitchens. I don’t want to be a burden to my dad—his financial situation is very difficult.

Amal Ahmed

I am a Palestinian child living in Gaza, and I am 13 years old. My name is Amal. One morning, at 6:30, I woke up to the sound of missiles and terrifying noises. It was a very difficult time. The Israeli occupation army ordered us to evacuate our homes, so we went to Al-Shifa Hospital. I suffered from a lack of food and water. We moved to the west of Gaza, and fear began to fill the Gaza Strip. Days passed, then months, until the Israeli occupation army entered the areas and dropped leaflets on residential areas, instructing people to leave their homes for Gaza. However, my family refused to leave, and we were surrounded. We were forced to leave our house and fled to another place. Famine began, and the terrifying days went on. We would sleep and wake up to the sound of missiles. One day, we received the news that a large number of our relatives had been martyred, and they all died.

Until today, the war has not ended, and we don’t know our fate. Will we live, or will we die like our relatives, friends, and family? Will our homes be destroyed like the homes of others?

I hope the war will end, and we can live in peace. I want to return to my school and stay

Ahmed Al-Bardawi

My story is like the stories of other children in Gaza. The fear began on October 7 and hasn’t ended since. We fled to Al-Shifa Hospital, and under threats of being killed, we were forced to move to Khan Younis. We couldn’t take anything with us—no clothes, no tents, no food, no water. Soon after, we were besieged and ordered to leave, facing inspections and arrests through cattle pens that felt like execution chambers.
We moved to Rafah, and shortly after, were again told to evacuate, this time to Deir al-Balah, which wasn’t any better. Eventually, we returned to northern Gaza. This is just a small part of our suffering, which I can’t fully describe. This war has affected all children—I am one of them.
My home was destroyed, and I now live on its rubble. My grandmother’s house was also destroyed, with many of our family members martyred inside—my aunt and more than 200 relatives from my mother’s side (Abu Al-Qumsan family) in Jabalia. My uncle was severely wounded.
I wish I could wake up from this nightmare. I dream of seeing the sun shine again, of this war ending, of studying outside Gaza. I dream of sleeping without the sound of rockets and warplanes. I wish the world would listen to me and help me achieve my dreams. I am just like your children—I have rights too: the right to healthcare, safety, and education.
Where are the human rights organizations? Why don’t they listen? Every day we die from hunger. Where are the Arabs? Where are the Muslims? Where is the world?

Jana Hallss

If I were asked to describe my experience during the war, I would sum it up in a few words: “a journey through death, fear, and relentless hunger.”

Before the war, life was defined by happiness, hope, peace, and dreams for the future. Then came the journey of death, evacuation, and forced displacement from my beloved city of Shuja’iyya to the west of Gaza. We saw the bodies of children and women torn apart before our eyes, and buildings and towers collapsing under rocket fire as we walked beside them.

Then we were displaced to the south, but the bloodshed did not stop. The rockets kept falling, claiming the lives of innocent people. Life in the south became a living hell, marked by displacement, hunger, fear, and death. This war has destroyed the very essence of humanity and the childhood within us. We have become bodies that move without souls.

The hardest part of all is dying while the Arab and Islamic world watches in silence. We call upon the free people of the world to stop the bloodshed in Gaza. I pray that the page of this genocidal war will finally be turned, that we may return, that our stolen childhood may return, and that we may once again dream of building a better future for our homeland.

Abdul Qader Abu Al-Kass

I woke up on October 7th to go to school, when suddenly I heard that the war had started.
We went to Al-Shifa Medical Complex, and then we were displaced under threat of weapons to Khan Younis.
We were sitting there safe and secure, but suddenly the occupation forces ordered us to leave for Rafah, while they were dropping phosphorus bombs on us.
After a while, we were again forced to leave Rafah back to Khan Younis, and then back to Gaza.
We lived on the rubble of our home.
During the month of Ramadan, the war suddenly returned once more.
I hope the war ends and the sun shines again.
We are dying of hunger — why can no one support us with even a glass of water?

Amjad Hani

On the morning of October 7th, the people of Gaza woke up to the sound of rockets fired by the resistance toward the Gaza envelope, and the war began.
We were displaced from Gaza and moved to the south, then kept moving from one place to another.
There was a famine in Khan Younis.
In the south, people kept hearing in the news that a truce was near and that we would return to Gaza.But we never did.
Each time, we held on to hope, only for the negotiations to fail. And when the negotiations finally succeeded and a truce was announced, our joy was short-lived — the war resumed. Genocide, starvation, displacement, and suffering continued.
My dream is for this war to end so we can live in safety, eat healthy food instead of canned goods that harm our health and minds.