During Israel’s war on Gaza, under the roar of fighter jets, Nour tells me: “Isn’t it funny that you and I are considered the same people?” From her fragile shelter in Khan Younis, she gazes at me through the screen into my warm room in Yafa. I am here. She is there. We share a language, a religion, a national identity – but live in radically different realities. Two Palestinian women in our twenties, documenting our lives from opposite sides of a horrifying war. I live within the 1948 borders – a life of contradictions. Nour, under siege in Gaza, is rooted in a clarity I may never know. We met when she joined a citizen journalism programme I coordinate. Connection issues forced us into weekly WhatsApp calls. Slowly, through shared need – her desire to stay engaged, my urge to bridge the distance – a cautious friendship formed. We speak and document almost daily: womanhood, Palestinian identity, fear, freedom. Our bond grows, but so do the painful disparities. The camera connects – and exposes. Some days, her silence haunts me, and death feels closer than ever. This film is a search for meaning, for home, for a future that still feels possible.