Over the past 10 days, millions of Israelis have rushed to bomb shelters, dozens of times. When we’re underground, it’s hot, it’s humid, and it’s hard to breathe. We’re crammed together in a small, reinforced room, with no windows, no sunlight. Sometimes, by the third alarm of the night, at 4 am, the overwhelming tiredness makes it even worse. You’re too exhausted to fully understand what’s happening, too tired to calm yourself. There’s no Wi-Fi inside. We don’t know what’s going on outside, except for the deafening sound of explosions. The closer they are, the easier it is to guess whether a missile hit your city or your street. One neighbor forgot to bring water. Another came barefoot, with no time to put on his shoes. And then, it’s over. After 20 minutes, or 45, we’re allowed to go out. To breathe. To go back to sleep in our bed. The hostages aren’t allowed to go out. They’ve been living in darker, more suffocating, more terrifying rooms for nearly two years. Without proper food, without clean water, without hygiene. Without knowing what happened to their families on October 7. Without knowing what’s happening in Israel. Who knows what Hamas has told them now, with the war with Iran. They need to come home. Now!
See Tweet