'Abandon all hope ye who enter here'

The owner of the local store once said to me: 'You know, I breathe one pound of dust walking downhill and breathe another two pounds going uphill. I think one day I will have a dust cancer.'

Summer is awful but I live here and I love my home. I love Al Ram though it is encircled with dust, under Israeli occupation, and neglected leaving room for dust to conquer and kill. The other day troops on the roadblock to Al Ram were covered with the dust trying to cross to Al Ram from Ramallah.

Dust lands on their faces and guns. I bet they breathe more dust than my good local storekeeper, who at least enjoys a bit of a sense of humor - unlike the troops, who get so infuriated when some dust land on the finger that shoots Palestinians crossing with the dust.

As days go by, faces become the color of dust. Even when water runs on the body to clean the dust, it seems reluctant to do so. Dust rules here.

I made a big mistake and decided to cross with the dust to Ramallah, as I wanted to breathe the Ramallah dust for a change. I got to the roadblock with some dust and asked permission to cross. The troops looked at me and nearly mistook me for a pile of dust but only realized that I was a human being when my five-month-old baby cried, as she was really sick and tired of waiting in the dust, the sun, and the colorless rocks.

'You cannot cross,' said the troops leaning on the cement blocks behind the sand bags. I held the proof of my British citizenship, which I am really proud of, high up in the air hoping it would save the day.

The passport was a little dusty and had an invalid visa. The dust-covered troops were unable to see the visa and decided to let me cross but decided not to allow my wife and my baby to cross. I said I would die if I had to go on without them especially my gorgeous baby. 'Tough shit,' he said, 'these are the orders.'