Tel-Aviv Street                                                                           

Went to Tel-Aviv today. I was wondering about the renewed Kikar Dizingoff. I had seen it only once after they took it down to street level.

Great! That Agam monstrosity? They managed to make it look nice by leaving only its structure without the super colorful outer layer. It’s metallic but doesn’t disturb you with its incongruous coloring. Halleluja! My only fear now is that it’s temporary and Agam is just waiting, ready to pounce in some corner.

But putting all fears aside, I marched onwards to the Dizengoff Centre itself, then right to Bugrashov street, all the way to the beach. The sea! The sea! What can one say.

A lot of people take guided tours in Tel-Aviv it seems, as if not trusting their eyes to show them whatever is worth looking at. I passed next to a group of German speaking young adults who were, no doubt, looking at Bauhause houses.

They missed the hotel entrance with the two human-sized bronze cats, which was just around the corner from the. They missed the second-hand disc store that smells like a book store. I’m sure if I ever visited their cities I would be watchful; I would want to smell out all the bizarre nooks and figure out where locals go when in need of comfort food, a good umbrella and so on.

I am pretty sure they were so ensconced in their follow-the-guide stance, they didn’t even notice this was a memorial day. A lot of soldiers died in the process of setting this state up, so we have a special memorial day, right before Independence Day. The Memorial Day siren caught me when I was at the Dizengoff Centre. I wasn’t prepared for it. It caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to mourn all these soldiers and others, whose lives had been cut short in this way.

I was standing next to a magazine stand, browsing through something, when the siren started. At first I thought it was some strange mechanical sound to do with a malfunction. Was it worth all these peoples’ lives that I could have a morning in Tel-Aviv and then walk along the beach all the way up north?

Earlier on, when rushing through my duties in order to deserve this morning, I had gone to the supermarket. An older white haired man was remonstrating with a woman there, that the press wasn’t talking enough about the poor poor Palestinians. We have just had a short military operation in Gaza. It was short because the new Chief of Staff went all out to demonstrate it wasn’t going to be worth their while.

“They are people too!” the white haired person was saying, which is true. But when they are killed it is not in the effort to build themselves a better future, but in order to stop us from building ours. They take the money they receive from Qatar (this since Abbas of the Palestinian Authority refuses to share with them the money he receives from us), and use it to work towards the destruction of Israel. Theirs is a spiteful God. I will never enjoy myself walking through the streets of Gaza City. Never.

Every day people from Gaza come to Tel-Aviv, mostly for health care purposes. I’ve met them in Hospital. But it’s not reciprocal. Their God requires that I be killed.