Sufian Alami, 88 years old, recalls his life shaped by repeated displacement. He became a refugee three times: in 1948, in 1967, and again in 1990, when he was forced to leave Kuwait for Jordan. When he fled Al Lydd in 1948, he was only twelve years old. Despite the decades that have passed, his memories of Palestine remain remarkably intense. He recalls walking to school each morning, stopping for fried zalabiyeh along the way. Eating as he walked, the oil from his fingers would leave traces on his schoolbooks by the time he reached class. He remembers picking blood oranges from his uncle’s orchard and asparagus from between the cacti. He describes the landscape of his home with striking visual detail and deep affection, from the glittering pond to the farmer’s donkey to his father’s sesame oil press.

Alongside these cherished memories are others marked by profound pain. He recalls witnessing the aftermath of a bombing that struck a house, killing and severely injuring many of its residents, a memory that still weighs heavily on him with grief. When he closes his eyes, he says, the past appears before him in vivid images against the darkness of his eyelids. Most haunting of all is the memory of exile: walking under an unforgiving sun as Israeli forces drove Palestinians on a death march from their homes, herding them into crowded lines like sardines. He remembers the overwhelming thirst of that dry, scorching day, and the feeling of being uprooted from everything he knew. Decades later, those memories remain as clear as ever, carrying both the beauty of the life he once knew and the pain of being forced into exile denied the right of return.