Last night marked the celebrations of Israel’s 62nd independence day. Andreea has an insatiable craving for fireworks and asked that we go see some. I was probably in a good mood and agreed to take her. Now I am in a bad unpleasant mood.
I can recall three memorable experiences from this visit to the city (Nahariya):
- One food stand where a man was placing a few pieces of meat on the fire. He looked like an average guy (not an average merchant), with a slightly longer then average grill, who had spent the day preparing the meats, embracing an opportunity to make some money on this day of celebration.
- A cat that was sitting next to another food stand, staying out of the way, but close enough to pick up small crumbs of meat that were falling on the ground.
- A girl, I would estimate about 12 years old, who had a peaceful and pleasant presence. She was truly enjoying the celebration, she was radiating, but without the diturbance, noise and sensationslism that dominated the crowds.
I don’t recall “suffering” while we were there. I didn’t feel I belonged there, I didn’t feel any celebration. I simply watched, rather peacefully, with some curiosity, even slightly amused at the social fabric passing before my eyes, waiting for the fireworks to come so we can go home.
The fireworks lasted longer then I expected. The part I most enjoyed was when I watched Andreea’s face watching the fireworks. She was immersed. Her eyes didn’t blink, and a couple of times her lips turned upwards slightly into a short-lasting smile. When they were over we headed out of the city center back toward the car and home.
As we were walking out we walked past a teen girl. She was overweight, dressed in a failed attempt to look sexy, one hand holding a cigarette to her mouth and the other a cellphone to her ear, her face wearing a look of contempt. As we passed each other I cursed under my breath something that translates like “you dumb, fat, fuck” – and experienced some immediate relief.
When we got home I was extremeley agitated. Sleep was beyond me. Andreea went to bed, and I stayed awake waiting for my agitation to settle. I thought I was heading towards a sleepless night, but sooner then I expected, tiredness took over and I went to bed. I awoke to find my breathing compromised – my nostrils were blocked and my chest felt itchy and irritated. I woke up feeling that the world I met last night is not a world I want to live in.
I have a feeling that if I try to describe or rationalize my experience of last night and the vibrations still resonating within me, that I will come off as either crazy or judgemental. That I would feel like I felt about art until I met Shahar. I know better. On the bright side, the experience has been a reminder to me that there is still a part of me that wants to connect with others. That I haven’t lost that passion. It has also reminded me that I need to treat my passions with care, that misplacing them can hurt. I look forward to going home.