Dedicated to Sabra

We missed the last bus from tverya so we hailed a taxi.
Still haven't figured out the difference between arab and secular israeli drivers.
This one is no exception.
Warily, we enter the vehicle.
Your name?
Avi.
From Jerusalem.

Smiles all around.

Avi is in a mood that is not good.
And we are in his car.
So he begins to speak.
Angry.
Sad.
Of Israel and it's government.
Of soldiers and hands tied and world opinion and America and money.
Of us and our cozy lives far from the violence.

He mourns aloud for twenty minutes or so.
Then all is silent.

So what is the solution?

Avi doesn't skip a beat...
Moshiach.
Of course.
There is no other answer.
(hand on head) I may not wear a kippah, but I believe...

Walla.
:)
I love my people.