On the morning of the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, 22-year-old Ahmed Alyan got into a car and drove south to his hometown of Rafah, where he had left eight months earlier. Displacement there.

As he got closer, the pile of rubble grew larger, closing in on him until the road disappeared. He parked the car and continued walking.

He passed through his usual haunts - the neighborhoods of Tal al-Sultan, al-Balad and Al-Jeneine - before arriving in his own part of Brazil. The park that once stood on the corner is gone. There were only two houses left on the entire block. His was not among them.

Arrian knew it would be bad, but he didn't expect to find what he did: a wasteland. "All we saw were ruins," he said. "The city was demolished."

After months of war, nearly 2 million displaced Palestinians like Aryan are desperate to return home. Donkey cart drivers, the main taxi service since the besieged enclave was deprived of fuel, have in recent months shouted out the names of places all Gazans know are inaccessible - such as the northern part of the country mired in fighting. Beit Hanoun – as an expression of longing to return.

The ceasefire that took effect on Sunday means some finally can. But from Rafah in the south to Jabaliya in the north, the enormity of the losses has brought some relief. Where roads, shops and gardens once stood, only sand, twisted metal and broken concrete were found.

After experiencing countless days and nights of bombing, people did not realize that the place they were familiar with would become so unrecognizable.

Pale pink curtains hung on the balcony of the five-story apartment building where Aryan grew up with his grandmother, uncles and cousins, usually drawn open to let in the sunlight. All that's left is a pile of rubble, on which Aryan is determined to live in some way.

"As a family, we will come back. We will not leave our homes or our land," Aryan said. "We want to go back, but now there is no infrastructure, no sewers, no water."

The 15-month war has caused more damage to Gaza than any previous Israeli offensive. Palestinian health authorities say some 47,000 people have died since Israel launched its onslaught in response to a Hamas attack on October 7, 2023, which Israeli officials said killed 1,200 people.

About 1.9 million of Gaza's 2.3 million residents have been displaced. The United Nations said 92% of homes were destroyed or damaged and estimated that more than 50 million tons of rubble could take up to 21 years to clear, at a cost of about $1 billion.

Basma Mahdi, 45, was forced to flee from Beit Lahia in the north to Gaza City and began returning the morning of the ceasefire, trailing her neighbors. It felt surreal, like a dream. "Buildings and whole streets are gone," she said. "I just want to close my eyes and avoid seeing anything."

For some, returning means another reckoning. Palestinians who re-entered abandoned neighborhoods found the bodies of loved ones crushed under the rubble of their homes. Gaza's Civil Defense said 10,000 bodies were still trapped under the rubble.

There were no clear plans for post-war reconstruction. The daunting task of clearing the rubble depends on the duration of the ceasefire, which will initially last six weeks.

Phases two and three still need to be negotiated to permanently end the war before reconstruction can begin (which is not guaranteed). It's unclear where the huge amount of money needed will come from. That leaves Palestinians wondering how long they will have to live in tents on fragments of their homes.

"Tonight we will sleep among the ruins of our home. It is a ruin, but it is still our home," Mahdi said. "I'm happy that a truce was reached . . . but everything is not going to be okay for us until a long time has passed."

The right of Gazans to return to their homes is a key principle of the ceasefire agreement, and many fear a repeat of the massive land dispossession that followed the creation of the Israeli state in 1948.

But many people still can't begin the process. Under the deal, Palestinians must wait a week to cross Israel's separation wall, the Nezarim corridor that separates north and south.

Khalil Al Madhoun, 43, was displaced from Gaza City and found himself in trouble in the Nuseirat camp south of Netzarim.

"I knew for months that my apartment had been destroyed, but I would go look for any souvenirs in its ruins," he said.

People sheltering in borrowed homes are scrambling to make alternative arrangements before their owners return from the other side of the dividing line.

Another group of people from parts of Gaza still controlled by Israeli forces risked their lives to get a glimpse of their homes, only to flee back to camps for displaced persons.

A year before the war broke out, policeman Abu Balad bought a piece of land in the Balad neighborhood of his hometown of Rafah and built a house for himself, his wife and children. He decorated the room and planted a tree in the garden.

On the day the war ended, he returned to the site of his new house. It is located in an urban strip along the Egyptian border that has been designated a no-go zone by Israel, known as the Philadelphia Corridor.

He managed to get within 300 meters of his house before an Israeli quadcopter started shooting in his direction, but the rubble of all the destroyed buildings was piled so high in front of him that he couldn't see Less than what's left.