To me, this photograph is not about Gaza. It is about a woman crying in complete misery with her dress soaked in blood (it does not matter whose).
I often feel that tragedy is the only reality that I can ascertain as truth. Sometimes I see or read something that makes me happy, but it is momentary, as soon after I'm confronted by images such as this, and realize the pain and suffering of the person in the photograph within myself. I wish I could be there for her, I wish I could be there for everyone, but I can't.
Such thoughts have left me in agony all my life, but I do not mind it. For at least then, I know that I am still human.