I am a child of Palestine. I have marbles in my head. I wasn't always like this. I used to go to school and wanted to go to college. But the planes come low, very low, every night. I cannot sleep. My little sister cries. I cannot sleep. I see the terrorized faces of my father and mother. I cannot sleep. I start getting marbles in my head. The soldiers come in the day. They want names which we can't give them. They threaten my father. They paw my elder sister. The make dirty gestures at my mother. I see my father cringing, humiliated. My father dies a little death every time the soldiers come. Today they killed by elder brother on the street. My brother, my playmate, my hero. Today I am not a child. Today I will kill myself and some of them. Television news will be full of them. There will be no mention of me. Me who was a child of Palestine.-KHURSHID ANWER, Lahore, via e-mail, January 16.