I reached the shop, down a short alley, and knocked on the door. I knocked again.
Elli leaned closer, his face serious, and told me something surprising. At least, I was taken by surprise.
I fell into conversation with three young women. One of them was a pescatarian, unless she was abroad, in which case she turned into an omnivore.
An elderly Dutch woman stops to talk to me. She has lived here and in London, but prefers Rotterdam now. She hates Tel Aviv. She wouldn’t have moved here if she’d been me. It’s too hot, for one, and there are too many bikes.
She looks behind her, as if to remind everyone of something, and flicks her hair, like a pony flicks its mane.
Nathan pretends to look serious and says, ‘We can talk about politics, if you want,’ and laughs, then repeats himself. We stop talking about Eurovision.
She would like to open a bicycle cooperative in Tel Aviv, which is about the most lesbian thing anyone could do, possibly.