Every morning, I look at myself and my neighbours standing in the queue for water(排队取水), and remember how each of us once had a life of our own, our privacy(隐私；私人空间), our own toothbrush, our own home and our own bathroom. How we used to wash our faces and drink clean water without ever imagining that a day would come when these simple routines would become a battle with ourselves and with every drop of water.(我们从前洗脸、喝干净的水，从没想过有一天这些日常会变成与自己、与每一滴水的搏斗。) Even standing beneath a hot shower has become a dream postponed until further notice(无限期推迟).
每天早晨，我看着自己和邻居们站在取水的队伍里，就想起我们每个人都曾有过自己的生活、自己的隐私、自己的牙刷、自己的家、自己的浴室。想起我们从前洗脸、喝干净的水，从没想过有一天，这些最简单的日常会变成一场与自己、与每一滴水的搏斗。就连站在热水下冲个澡，也成了无限期推迟的梦想。
A year has passed since the announcement of the “ceasefire” in Gaza, yet the spectre(幽灵；挥之不去的阴影) of war, bombardment and death has never left our lives(从未离开我们的生活).
加沙“停火”宣布已过去一年，可战争、轰炸与死亡的阴影从未离开我们的生活。
War is not simply the bombing of buildings or the evacuation(疏散；撤离) of a residential neighbourhood. There are small wars inside this one enormous war. The tent is a war. The surveillance(监视；监控) drone – the zannana, as we call it, for its incessant(持续不断的；没完没了的) buzzing – is a war. Queueing for water is a war. Waiting to use the toilet is a war. The death of privacy is a war. Thirty people crammed into a single room(挤在一间屋里) is a war.
战争不只是轰炸楼房、疏散居民区。在这场巨大的战争内部，还藏着一场场小战争。帐篷是一场战争。侦察无人机——我们叫它 zannana，因为它嗡嗡响个不停——是一场战争。排队取水是一场战争。等着上厕所是一场战争。隐私的死亡是一场战争。三十个人挤在一间屋里，也是一场战争。