Outside the Kabbalah Centre, by Diezengoff Square, a man eating a felafel approaches me. He has long, wild hair and a huge, wild beard, like Ben Gunn, or Roy Wood from Wizard. He has, obviously, never been convinced by the merits of conditioner. Much of the tahini from his lunch has been redistributed in his… Continue reading Beggars’ banquet
Le’al tells me that she’s returning to Toronto in a month to finish her law studies. Her husband will follow her in a year, when he’s given a visa. She says she finds it difficult to make friends, which surprises me. She is a gorgeous girl, friendly, sweet, clever. We talk about keeping in touch and… Continue reading Se-juice me!
I reached the shop, down a short alley, and knocked on the door. I knocked again.
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.