For Amer Taimeh, 46, home is now two tents pitched on the rubble of his family house in Jabalia, northern Gaza, 300 metres from a no-go zone controlled by Israel.
The so-called yellow line marks the border of Israeli-held territory in Gaza and life is dangerous for Palestinians nearby. “There’s gunfire daily,” Mr Taimeh said. “Shells fall nearby all the time".
Two weeks ago, his son Mohammed was shot in the leg by a quadcopter, he told The National. Mr Taimeh and a neighbour had to carry him 3km to find help.
In recent weeks, Israel has killed dozens of people it claims were crossing the line and threatening its soldiers. The line was initially drawn on maps of the enclave by ceasefire negotiators, but it has since been physically marked with yellow blocks.
But Mr Taimeh said he was unable to move to another area. "We can’t afford rent or land, so we live here," he added. The family house was destroyed about a year ago during an Israeli offensive in Jabalia, with one tent now set up for him and another pitched for his son and his family.
Mr Taimeh described a constant cycle of fear, exhaustion and deprivation. “We have no water, no food, no power, no communication," he said. "Even [phone] signals barely reach us. We walk long distances to buy basic goods and sometimes we just can’t find what we need at all.”
At least 243 Palestinians have been killed and 619 injured since the start of a fragile truce between Israel and Hamas, Gaza's Health Ministry said. The truce offers little protection to those near the yellow line.
The next steps in US President Donald Trump's peace plan are still to be negotiated and the outcome of those talks is uncertain. Israel says it still controls more than half of the enclave, even after withdrawing to the yellow line.
Munzir Isleem, 34, lives about 200 metres from the frontier with his wife and three children. He lives in what remains of his house, one room out of five, near Shujaiya, east of Gaza city.
He said four children in the neighbourhood had been killed since the ceasefire began in October. The Israeli military "fires at anything that moves – women, children, it doesn’t matter", he added. "I just want my kids to live.”
He must walk 2km to fetch water because the area is too dangerous for lorries to enter. “Our life is misery, fear and terror every minute,” Mr Isleem said. “Every morning we wake to the sound of explosions. It feels like the war never ended.
“The occupation wants to make our lives unbearable. They don’t want us living near the ruins of our homes, even though the fighting has supposedly stopped.”
Another resident, Wisam Abu Duqqa, 37, lives with his wife and nine children in Bani Suheila, east of Khan Younis, about 700 metres from the yellow line.
“We die every day,” he said. “Ten days ago, two of my neighbours’ sons were killed, one of them just 12 years old. They were on their own land, living in tents, not attacking anyone. The army killed them because they were near the yellow line.”
For Mr Abu Duqqa, the border is a trap. “It’s a death zone meant to keep us away from our homes,” he added. “Anyone who gets close risks being shot.”
But he refuses to leave to the area, despite the dangers. “This is my land, where my home once stood,” he said. “I can’t abandon it. Holding on to the land is sacred for us. It’s who we are.”
Life in Gaza has become a test of endurance. Families rebuild their lives on rubble, surrounded by danger and deprivation. Like many Palestinians, they have lost everything but refuse to give up their connection to the land.
Looking out over the ruins of the enclave, Mr Taimeh said softly: “Even if we die here, at least it will be on our land.”
