Imagine having to live in a tin hut in stifling temperatures of 45 degrees or more without a fan or a fridge for weeks on end. Your meat stinks and your father's medicines have gone off. You sweat like a pig and lose your temper when a child screams for an ice cream.
You have not had a proper job for years, but it can't all be bad. With no light or TV at night, romance can creep back into your life. In my case, only a thin curtain separates me and my wife from my elderly parents and the children. So I have to pick my moment.
Blowing out the candles at night has become something of a routine. Starlit Gaza nights are a time for reflection, so I do it with a sense of anticipation and excitement.
Who am I? Why was I born in this tortured land? Will my children survive disease, poverty and martydom? I fear for them, so should I surrender my body and soul to the Israelis? Who needs a state when there is no hope? I hear they pay well for spies.
Some of our hotheads are holding a young Israeli soldier. Mr Olmert is blowing our power stations and bridges to smitherines and beating the shit out of our men, women and children. The EU spokeswoman is urging restraint on "all sides" while holding back aid.
Perhaps suicide bombs ARE the answer. The ultimate human sacrifice. But this is just like blowing out candles and I am talking about beautiful, innocent, slender, brown-eyed Palestinian candles.
I have a brilliant idea. Why don't we just give up any claim to Palestinian lands. We could all live in the LAND OF ISRAEL. Mr Olmert will have no reason to pick a fight with us. Everyone knows Israel is a democratic nation. So we will be given 100% equal rights straight away. Just imagine, me and Mr Olmert, equal in the LAND OF ISRAEL. My children will grow up in peace with Israeli children and together they will thrive.
The morning after. More bombs fall onto our heads and the young Israeli soldier is murdered in retaliation. We Palestinians are like ants. We can have a nasty bite but they can spray us with fire and poison, stamp on us with their big army boots and destroy our nests. Perhaps we are not really human. We breed so someone else can enjoy kicking our nests into the ground and squashing our young. Next year, inshallah, will be better. You know, I keep saying to myself, we Arabs, should have listened to Habib Bourguiba in 1965. We just never learn.