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Andrew Harding / Africa correspondent / 2 July 2011 Last updated at 15:27 GMT / BBC.
Last night I sat on the roof and watched Misrata city - blackened by a power cut - glow orange as another barrage of rockets smashed into the port area.
"The storm is coming," one rebel military official assured me. "Our storm," he added.
But this morning the rebel casualties were pouring, as usual, into a field hospital just behind the western front lines as Colonel Muammar Gaddafi's forces nudged closer.
As the deadlock here continues, and the summer heat rises, I'm heading back to my base in Johannesburg. The only way to get out of this famously besieged city is still by boat, and there haven't been too many of them coming or going in recent days.
Below is something I've written for From Our Own Correspondent and, although it contains some material that has appeared before on this blog, I thought I'd include it by way of a parting message from this remarkable city.
I'm crouching behind a ridge of sand on the long, meandering, front line west of Misrata.
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