In the heart of Gaza City, olive trees grow between the rubble. Layan, a twelve-year-old girl, crouched by her grandmother's clay oven. 'Who are you baking for?' her younger brother Youssef asked, rubbing his tummy. 'For dignity,' Layan whispered, mixing the dough. She baked a small loaf every evening, even when food was hard to find. 'And for tomorrow,' she added, smiling at him.