first was the universal aston h astonishment that this vip, a professor from america, no less, had actually daned to visit their little gaza, an expression that was inevitably paired with heartily veiled in treaties to return. there was the two young boys who approached me on the very first night as i sat alone on a rock outcropping to photograph the gigantic sun melting into the blue saer. that was my first encounter with these pew diddly angry stone throwers that had ended a year before. they shuffled quietly but confidently towards me on the wet sand. welcome to gaza, they said. we took photos and we talked with our primitive language skills upon leaving they said, don't forget to send us the photos and thank you, sir, for coming to gaza. it was the girl in gaza city who during my talk to her classroom who penned a note to me in english, it welcomed me to gaza, thanked for visiting her school, hoped that i would enjoy my visit and finally wished that i would consider coming again. it was the classroom of male youth in the southern camp of rafa who sensed that i was about to conclude my b