This is my street. All my memories are here since I was born until now. I love this street. My neighbours, my friends, my father, my mother, all things. I can never leave it. I visited Palestine but I didn’t feel anything. I don’t have any memories in Palestine. I know it is my country, but I don’t feel anything when I visit. This is my home. My family came in 1967, first they lived in tents, and then in 1983 it became barracks. My father built my home. He died when he was 100 years. He always wanted back to Palestine. Always, even if we born here. But then he died in earth in Jordan. No back.
Story told and photographed by Safiah Salem, living as stateless in the "Gaza Camp" in Jarash, Jordan