Pre-War Post-War Circa 2006
Journal - one day will put it all together - chronologically. A glimpse into of what it is to be dealing with sensory bombardment on a level that probably wouldn't perturb the average person but to a sensitive they are momentous - combined with memory banks that need upgrading and are still locked in terror mode - make for a classic case of sensory overload. I had just moved to the city of Tzfat. On Independence Day. Firecrackers would come later on that night. And so would the screams of the encaged peacocks in the municipal zoo. And later in my move there I'd experience fires lapping 100 meters from my door. An alcoholic neighbor with an insane dog. An all-out war with 600 katyushas flying to my left, right and over me - with no where to run or hide. And staying the full duration of that war in a half a room with no kitchen and overflowing water and crumbling plaster to deal with daily. This entry was just day one.
Read on....
"First day in the hills of tzfat. All noises, all raping of energy, all vulnerabilities set alight with the fireworks, the screeching of some unknown animal caged behind wires, buses, cars, information coming at me, son here cleaned room and a half from debris, cats atow, 5 hours cramped in another blue van. And symbolically it’s always a blue vehicle that transports me to higher vistas. But I am unhappy in a place that overflows with all the crap I brought but washing machine not. And a yapping, mentally ill dog in the cubicle next to me that is suffering from some kind of canine PTSD at every cough, walk, movement - and the yapping sets off my inner alarm and this is the tikkun, how to be chill in the h-ills of tzfat in spite of what is going on around in and over me.
Read on....
"First day in the hills of tzfat. All noises, all raping of energy, all vulnerabilities set alight with the fireworks, the screeching of some unknown animal caged behind wires, buses, cars, information coming at me, son here cleaned room and a half from debris, cats atow, 5 hours cramped in another blue van. And symbolically it’s always a blue vehicle that transports me to higher vistas. But I am unhappy in a place that overflows with all the crap I brought but washing machine not. And a yapping, mentally ill dog in the cubicle next to me that is suffering from some kind of canine PTSD at every cough, walk, movement - and the yapping sets off my inner alarm and this is the tikkun, how to be chill in the h-ills of tzfat in spite of what is going on around in and over me.
Comments