I really meant to write more about the EJC. It was such an amazing experience that I can't imagine relegating it to memory without some more writing, but then...
The thing is that in the middle of my honeymoon, the news started to pour in. We heard that two soldiers had been snatched by Hizbolla, and we heard that missiles were falling in Nahariya.
By the time we got back from our trip, we were coming back into a war zone. And it's so strange. I'm glued to the news now, wondering what will happen, what can happen. It's very surreal. There are missiles falling in Haifa, a city where I've spent a good amount of time. Here, there's quiet.
The mood here is very subdued. We go about our daily lives, and we do what we can to help the refugees from the north. We don't call them refugees. We call them guests, but the fact remains - they are here because their lives would be in danger if they were home.
The world screams and shouts about the fifty reported dead. well, give or take 49 or so. It was a huge massacre, except for the part where only one person died. And in Qana, the sixty or so were also less than 30 when the final count came in. Plus you can't forget that whatever the news, Reuters, at least, isn't above distorting it.
Turns out, now that the cat's out of the bag, Mr. Hajj - a freelance photographer from Lebanon, is being found guilty of more and more fraud daily.
Power Line is showing two pictures taken at the same scene, of the same bombed buildings. That would be okay, except that Mr. Hajj claimed that they were taken over a week apart. Let's face it. Most of us don't remember which building was destroyed. We see two pictures of destruction on two different days, and we believe that two different things were destroyed.
This poor lady apparently had her house destroyed twice, two weeks apart.
Too bad Israel is forced to stick with facts, and we're a little too sensitive to parade our dead around.
At any rate, life in Israel continues, weirdly, but steadily.