your cigarette smoke in my mouth. i see a thousand reflections in the crowd. it is as if i am in the holocaust museum again, staring at mirrored candles. i was tired until i saw you all, until i felt the energy and struggles of my people mixed with the tears of the dead sea; the lava of the gollan; rainbows in the galalee; kings and queens of the desert democracy, the paradox of the jewish state. post-modern klezmer ska sticks in the air and people jump every time the drum goes BOOM, and people jump anytime they hear BOOM. diaspora consciousness constantly replaces itself.

today we take jerusalem, we drink its wares of high holy holy hee and let it all go down. we are running on top of international time, soaking it all in. people are so so so welcoming here and everyone asks us to call it home. yesterday i arrived in east jerusalem and emerged into a state of culture shock. after a week of zionist brainwashing i arrive in a place where just saying the word israel is verging on offensiveness, yet everyone tells me that i am home!

when i saw the wall for the first time i was not struck with any emotion. it looked like any other wall; obstructing the view of the neighbours yard, tall monolithic stone structure full of hope and mistrust. bukra in shalla. a wall stuffed with hope and prayers; a wall which made soldiers weep; a wall which crumbled with canon; in shalla in shalla. bukra in shalla. today the wall is growing and dividing; cutting off families, creating ghettos; eating olive trees and children. eretz israel lives only in the dreams of the warsaw ghettos. we will create a circle, to keep them out and maintain our kingdom. history repeats itself while fractals form in my heart. remember when we were strangers in egypts land.