Textiles are a window into the communities that created them, with every motif and line signalling a different memory, tradition or identity. Often seen as folk art, these pieces of embroidery and weaving bring together dozens of narrative threads, from Japan to South America. But nowhere is it more fraught with meaning than in Palestine.
In the opening moments, Loznitsa, working with the Romanian cinematographer Oleg Mutu, plants the camera before the prison gates, which open with a loud creak, allowing a fresh batch of emaciated arrivals to shuffle into a work yard.
There is a scene in "Morgenkreis | Morning Circle" (2025), a 16-mm film by Berlin-based Palestinian artist Basma al-Sharif, that unfolds at the threshold of a daycare center. A young boy clings to his father, his fists locked into the fabric of his coat, his arms wrapped tightly around him. The father gently tries to pry himself free while a daycare worker crouches nearby, attempting to distract the child and coax him inside. It is an ordinary moment, one that anyone who has ever been a child - or cared for one - recognizes instantly, as well as the gut-wrenching feeling it provokes.
Two hundred and fifty-six Quran memorisers—Palestinians who have committed the entire holy book to memory—sat in the place while companions beside them listened attentively, following each word carefully to ensure the recitation remained flawless. The gathering, titled Safwat Al-Huffaz—The Elite of Quran Memorisers, has become a special collective way of observing Ramadan in Gaza.
Tens of thousands of people have gathered around the world for al-Quds Day, an annual event on the final Friday of Ramadan demonstrating solidarity with Palestine and opposition to Israeli occupation. Rallies took place across numerous countries, including Iran, Malaysia, Indonesia, Kashmir and Yemen.
Israeli restrictions on Palestinian access to the old city of Jerusalem and its places of worship constituted a flagrant violation to international law, including international humanitarian law, the historical and legal status quo, and the principle of unrestricted access to places of worship.
A terrifying moment. We appeal for your support. The need for truthful, grassroots reporting is urgent at this cataclysmic historical moment. Yet, Trump-aligned billionaires and other allies have taken over many legacy media outlets - the culmination of a decades-long campaign to place control of the narrative into the hands of the political right. We refuse to let Trump's blatant propaganda machine go unchecked.
Today Americans are getting a taste of what Palestinians have experienced for decades: state terror. The escalation of state violence in the United States has been unprecedented. In the span of three weeks, two people were shot dead in Minneapolis during anti-immigration raids. Both were branded domestic terrorists. Meanwhile last week, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents used five-year-old Liam Ramos as bait to get his asylum-seeking father to come out of their home;
The ongoing repression of dissidents in Venezuela following the US attacks reminds us that President Trump never had the interest of the nation's people at heart. The painful reality of many immigrants is one of being caught between dehumanizing forces in their native countries and in exile, and reduced to abstractions in an increasingly unnuanced "discourse" that flattens lived experience.
For a mayor who has become so closely associated with a foreign policy conflict thousands of miles away, Zohran Mamdani does relatively little to directly address it. Follow his public pronouncements, press conferences, and social media posts, and you'll find a relentless focus on the local: an executive order cutting fees for small businesses, a mayoral appointment to combat racial discrimination, a ride in a taxi to announce a new TLC commissioner.
This is not merely a change of name, and the plaque we will unveil shortly represents far more than formality. It is a change of direction, reflecting the reality we are living today, a reality that unequivocally recognises, at long last, our inalienable right to sovereign statehood. For generations of Palestinians in Gaza, in the occupied West Bank, including East Jerusalem, in refugee camps and across the diaspora, this embassy represents proof that our identity cannot be denied, our presence cannot be erased, and our lives cannot be devalued.
The Byzantine-era church lies half hidden in the shade. Roman columns rise from among the olive trees, even older ruins linked to Israelite kings are overgrown. To the west, the Mediterranean is just visible on the horizon. To the north and south are the hills of the occupied West Bank. In the small town of Sebastia, a hundred metres or less east of the ruins, everyone is very worried.
But urgency should never become an excuse for illusion, spectacle, or political shortcuts. The contrast between rhetoric and reality could not be sharper. While United States President Donald Trump and a group of world leaders gathered in Davos, Switzerland, to sign the charter of the so-called Board of Peace and unveil glossy reconstruction plans, the killing in Gaza continued. Since the ceasefire came into effect on October 10, no fewer than 480 Palestinians have been killed.
A Chadian chemist and a British activist, both born in Jerusalem, vow to fight for Palestine by any means necessary even if it costs them death. Two men devoted their lives to the Palestinian resistance but paid the ultimate price. Bashir Jibril, born in Jerusalem to a Chadian family, joined the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war. He trained military cadres and took part in the 1970 airliner hijackings, before being killed in a car bomb explosion in Athens in 1978.