As the days pass, it gets harder to stay in touch. My friends send me photos of their children sleeping under tables, covering their ears and eyes against death

I haven’t seen my younger brother, Abdallah, in person for more than four years. It takes a few minutes to end our video calls these days. With a shaky voice and a reluctant smile, he blinks away his tears to reassure me he is strong, despite the constant explosions that rock his home. When I ask if there is anything I can do, he answers: “Can you postpone nightfall?” I conceal my anxiety as I say “Goodbye!” and “Take care!” again and again. I prolong the conversation because I am terrified this could be the last time I speak to him.

Two days later, 5am in Perth, midnight in Gaza, I message him frantically. I’ve learned over the past few days that this is about the time Israeli bombing intensifies. Bombs raze buildings to the ground while residents are trying to sleep inside. I urge him and my other younger brother to move to where my older brother is staying in Khan Younis, in the southern part of Gaza which seems to be hit less frequently. I think if they stick together under one roof then they can console each other as the bombs fall.

Related: I live in Sheikh Jarrah. For Palestinians, this is not a ‘real estate dispute’ | Lucy Garbett

Related: ‘They know they’re going to die’: Australians fear for their relatives in Gaza as fighting escalates

This post was originally published on Human rights | The Guardian.