I often reminisce about sun-drenched afternoons in Palestine when we had the time to sit and share stories. We would walk home at dusk. Our conversations became about hope and expectations as we tried to find our own place in the world. The worries of the Occupation would temporarily fade into the background to be replaced with life and its opportunities, despite the many restrictions. This however, was not my childhood. I was born and raised in England, with minimal contact with my Palestinian family except for the odd trip there as a child. The joining of our two worlds, which happened on that afternoon in my twenties, and has led me on the start of my own journey.

During those months spent in Palestine, I began collecting stories, those…