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Trip of Reality

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I am at the beach with my family on vacation.
The Tel-Aviv air flows through my hair.
I taste the salty Mediterranean water.
We return to the hotel and I sleep soundly.
Next morning.
The alarming news on the TV, of a suicide bomb in nearby Jerusalem.
A feeling of horror and hatred flows through my tan body as I hear the sickening detail.
How could I have been sleeping peacefully while this was happening just a few miles away?
It is the last day of my trip, and it is slow and depressing.
It feels more than the daily news topic.
I feel part of a whole country in distress.
I feel a desperate need for justice to stop this hell of neighbor history.
I feel I need to spread the word.
My plane lands in New York City.
I am in school, and I am confused.
Kids in my class are discussing clothes, celebrities and TV shows in such depth.
I am stunned that they don’t have the slightest idea of what happened just two days ago.
Had I been so ignorant?
I couldn’t have been.
Eighteen innocent were killed in Jerusalem.
Four American soldiers killed in Iraq.
Shootings and rape in nearby New York City.
No one here is in shock or even talks about it.
I feel strong embarrassment of the people I sit among.
At least I am not on vacation anymore.





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