Original Story

Written June 2013

Drawing her cotton shawl around her shoulders, the little girl scampered between the sienna rocks. Every now and then she would duck behind the cover of a rock, imagining herself to be on a top-secret mission. Her shawl was her flimsy camouflage, and the rocks were her only shield to protect against the guards in the security towers. As she shuffled and scampered, her destination was now within her sights: the West Bank barrier. For the entirety of her short life, she had known it was there, and now to behold it was surreal to the young girl. Entranced by the graffiti scrawled across it, she wanted to inspect the wall’s messages.

Banksy's work in the Gaza Strip

Banksy’s work in the Gaza Strip

She was surprised to find herself directly in front of the wall just moments later, magnetically drawn to it by the graffiti. Brushing her fingers across the painted cement, she traced the curves of Arabic script. Her roaming eyes were drawn to a crack in the wall, wide enough for a hand to fit through. Pressing her mocha eye to the hole, she peeked at the mysteries that existed on the other side of the wall just as long as she had existed on her side. At peace now that her greatest question had been answered, her bittersweet smile lingered as the guards carried her away.