I had a (relatively) quiet evening tonight. I was lazy all day long--sleeping, day-dreaming, calling Jef--leaving my work for other days. Finally I pulled myself together and hailed a taxi to Luise's. We got stuck in a huge traffic jam, which ended up being a soldier check-point. The radio was on in the cab, and with my small knowledge of Hebrew I managed to pick up a few words: Terrorist attack. This evening. French Hill. We spent ten or fifteen minutes in a long line of cars, finally waved through after a few brief questions from heavily armed soldiers. Turns out a young man was shot in the head while he was walking around in my neighborhood, in fact right near the post office where I walk to pick up my packages. There were police and army everywhere. I don't know if they caught the guy, or how they seem so sure it was terrorism. Odd to think how much I'm hoping it turns out to be crime. Please let it just be a harmless criminal murder. Don't let it be that terrorists have taken to shooting pedestrians down the street.
We live in interesting times.
The strangest part: the rest of my night was quite normal. Luise and I went out to dinner, then to a bar for a drink, and headed home. My taxi driver taught me proper Hebrew on the cab ride home, and now here I am. I'm feeling rather tired and think I will go to bed. History goes on down the street, and I worry about my paper, the dishes.
Interesting times indeed.