I’ve seen your compassion in action, and I’ll never forget it. From the very first moments of this crisis—when the world grew quiet and help seemed out of reach—it was your generosity that kept our hope alive.
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Today, I’m writing not to repeat what’s already been said, but to share how profound your impact remains. No aid convoys reach us. The markets are gutted or priced beyond our means. Sometimes, a family of four survives on a single cup of rice for the entire day.
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We aren’t asking for treats or indulgences. We’re simply praying for the basics: a handful of flour to bake bread, a few lentils to share with our children. Because right now, even the simplest ingredients feel like luxuries.
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Each packet you send is more than food—it’s proof that we’re not forgotten. Every scoop of flour you provide becomes a lifeline, every bag of beans a renewed breath in the silence of our streets.
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The bombs still echo in our memories. Fear still tightens our chests each dawn. But with your help, we can face the next sunrise knowing someone, somewhere, refuses to abandon us.
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I can’t reach you by phone. I can’t show you our empty cupboards. This letter is my only voice—and I use it to ask, once again, for your solidarity.
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Please stand with us. Not out of pity, but because you believe in a world where no parent’s heart must break over an empty plate. Help us stretch each donation into hope, each meal into courage.
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We wait for peace with every breath, but until that day, your kindness is what sustains us. Help us to keep breathing, keep fighting, keep living.
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From our hearts to yours—thank you, and please, consider giving today. Just enough to fill our cups, just enough to keep our children smiling through these dark times.”
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