Israeli strikes in Gaza on Saturday killed at least six people, including two children and a cameraman with broadcaster Al Jazeera, according to Palestinian health officials. https://to.pbs.org/44lPytf

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— PBS News (@pbsnews.org) June 20, 2026 at 5:29 PM

*Author’s note: this is dedicated to the men, women, and children of Palestine.
~

Paradise, is what some people would call this.

The palm trees swaying with the wind. The gentle roar of the ocean.

A swing crafted by hand rocks back and forth in solitude, waiting for its next visitor.

The sun hides away, its rays peeking through the dark and stormy clouds of the tropics.

A mosquito lands on my leg as I swat it away; it hovers around in opportunity.

Small talk surrounds me, as I nod and smile…my body here, but my mind a million miles away, pondering the universe, the world, whilst I hear talk about the weather, work, and more holidays away.

Images of what I’ve seen and witnessed the past few years flash up as a movie montage.

But I’m in Paradise

I shake my head out of my reverie and rejoin the conversation holding my chai latte, the sweet taste lingering on my lips.

I stare out into the pristine water again as conversations fade into the background. I don’t know how to do small talk anymore, I say to myself.

I’ve seen too much.
I know too much.
I care too much.

I purposely chose the T-shirt I wore today. A top that has the word Freedom on it.

Freedom is one of my highest values.
Freedom for me, my friends, my family, for all.

The conversations continue…

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to contribute anymore.

Me, who used to collect friends weekly, who travelled the world extensively, visiting 30 countries with a wanderlust eye. Someone who loved getting to know people, was able to talk about anything for hours with anyone at anytime, and who used to get excited for island trips and travel.

I now sit back, sunglasses on, introverted, remotely listening, knowing the people around me haven’t seen the images I have. They do not know or understand the world like I do, nor do they hold the same care.

To them, life is normal. It’s a break from their nine-to-five schedule, a chance for celebration, for relaxation, for renewal…

But for me, nothing changes.

Except I’m on an Island

As soon as I open my apps, the images are still there, the children are still dying, and my inbox will still be loaded with more messages pleading for my help.

An injustice that has changed me forever.

I may be on an Island

But I’m not really here.

~

If this made you stop and think, check out Naomi’s previous Elephant article: