Her brother helped her on at Kings Cross and explained she was travelling alone and spoke little English. Would I keep an eye out for her? Happy to help - and it turned out we were both getting out at the same station.
When I greeted her in my very few words of Arabic her nervous silent face transformed into a huge warm smile. As she settled into the journey, reading her book, she was self-contained, quietly confident.
She kept looking out of the window, amazed:
"It's so green!" she said "It's so open!"
She was born in Belfast and has a British passport. Many Gazans have no passport.
"I was meant to come last year, but you know..."
I said I only knew from the news on telly, which is not really knowing. I asked how it is now.
"We are living in hell."
She said it straighforwardly.
"But I will do my best to make it better.
I belong to Gaza AND the world.
We all share this world. I pray for peace."
As we pulled into the station, she gave me a gift - a small hand-embroidered glasses case.
I am happy to have it, I gave nothing in return other than sharing her prayer and hope.
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