This morning I drove by the park, it was crowded with white plastic chairs, sitting respectably in the silent morning air, flags were hanging near a big stage all prepared and ready for Yom Hazikaron – Memorial Day service to be cleared later for Independence Day celebrations.
Every year it feels the same, my throat clenches with pain.
I want to talk about this crazy magnificent place I live in.
I want to talk about my love, for the land, for the music and smells, for the warmth and togetherness that suffocates you sometimes but never, never leaves you alone.
I want to talk about cruel love, it wants all of you and a bit more, about people involved with the place passionately, loudly and violently.
I just want to say this is my tribe, this is home, and no one can ever tell me how to love it, or that if I wish for it different path I do not love it enough!