this thin angel of twilight

I went on a date with my Vietnamese friend on our (70 ish) Independence day. Unshaved, she understood only a few words in English, and her “R” is so much more subtle for me to understand…

Nevertheless, it was so wonderful to meet her on the main southern city junction, yet, a small city with some heritage of bravery wrote on the nation’s page-of-history.

Presented her to my father, he was smiling at me, this thin angel walking next to me!

On that night, a couple, in their mid 40s, who are more familiar with more fashioned parts of Israel reached to us, and asked her about her origin. I have advised her not to answer such a question.

She told me that it is okay, and they began to speak.

I have looked towards them and understood two things: I was mistaken: this couple feels deeply lonely here, in their own homeland. … many actually are, the strong Israel, the startup nation.

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Memory Eruption

As far as I can see, MEMORY 📜 is a one-time reunion of two forces : The winds (pressures) and the ocean (water flow). At a particular moment, an eruption occurred in the form of a wave.

The occurring force is so strong, it holds on time. Sometimes for years, for generations, some might say. It is hard; it is harsh; it is a force.

It is a memory of, and not limited to, a pain. On top of it, a fort is standing firmly, with one gatekeeper who makes sure for the occurrence stability, the wave itself.

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Beauty in Smoke

War tourism is an unweighted concept, but not unheard. One aspect and one story of it would be told now.

A person, couples, friends, who travel to vital war zones for personal gain. Through the smoke fence, something happens. The travelers just found a parking space, and with their typical walking shoes, they have climbed the green hill.


Binoculars are not required. Just hear the helicopter blades pounding, the Iron Dome leaping into action. Sense what is already here: the winter breeze read sermons. A touching creation of automatization and sacrification;

Some would not return, as those who walked through the 1939 Todesmärsche, we are all familiar with.

And this is logical to those who need to be obliged to the unforgiving one-society laws and strict corporate culture, they are being heard. Local bakeries cannot produce bread. The recipe of freedom went bankrupt. Sacrification, bankruptcy, survival.

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The Millions Community

The enjoyment of the reporter who had the privilege to drink the triple-distilled 50-year-old whiskey /// in relation to The enjoyment of a farmer who gathers every night with her farming brothers with a tea pot which was cast in iron 50 years ago. Those two enjoyments do not annulling each other out, nor voiding …

And just after the deep sip of linguistic meanings, she said that we live in wonderful times. To millions of people.

… and I wonder, who is claiming such a statement?

This claim is false in the life of that one boy who reached adulthood. He described to me only a few days before about all the fears I didn’t even know. I think I have asked him about asking out someone he likes. I felt pure love at his age. No one forced me how to love. It just happened by itself like a geyser starting to emanate to the surface from the untouched earth…

all the fears that were presented to the general public in the media, with the exact definitions he was describing to me. All the eminent prohibitions of the wonderful times.

Presentations which are not appropriate for a boy in his stage.

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