To not know; to think only about the usual mixed feelings of crossing back to \u201creal life” after a holiday,\u00a0with tender feet and breathing open pores.\u00a0\u00a0To be one of the ravers in the Israeli desert dancing under the starry October sky.\u00a0\u00a0To be an observant Jew dancing wildly over Sukkot-Shabbat-Simchat Torah, giving thanks over three holidays celebrating joy, joy, joy, going into otherness \u2013 not knowing about the bloody weekend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was counting the hours of those in blissful ignorance, having switched off their devices for another kind of communication as one holiday slid into another into another — before they\u2019d have to rejoin those who knew. That sliver of innocence would not narrow and close in the usual way, with a shiver, a tremble as we cross back over the straits — as poet Yehuda Amichai writes, trying to soak it all up before the flute holes close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From one kind of abyss to another.\u00a0\u00a0Strewn with corpses draped like black flowers\/on roads, on the tops of cars, in one’s hearts and arms. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
To not know; to think only about the usual mixed feelings of crossing back to \u201creal life” after a holiday,\u00a0with tender feet and breathing open pores.\u00a0\u00a0To be one of the ravers in the Israeli desert dancing under the starry October … Continue reading