Maybe this is all the same as death, complete with those five stages. At this point, I am very close to accepting my fate of imminent deportation/death. I know there's so much to do from the outside (of the country), but there was something so beautiful about working in Palestine; about being part of the larger Palestinian resistance.
I know the resistance will continue, and that we must support it from the outside. That knowledge is one of the many things that give me hope. I think I have become one of the "walking dead" that I saw in Palestine - those whose fate was predetermined and were simply awaiting it. I sleep. I eat. I exist in this 3m x 3m cell, awaiting that fate. Have they broken me? Am I broken?
tarek