it's never easy visiting my homeland, my home. it's where I grew up. 20 years of memories. good and bad. most of them in between.
difficult in this case has many meanings.
the difficulty of going back to these places,
to the past,
and the difficulty of the stones of jerusalem.
and then again - jerusalem and it's own many difficulties.
almost from the beginning of history.
and then a small memory but full with meanings:
this small hard corner of the electricity closet near the entrance to our house. always we bumped into it, and my dear father used to upholster it with soft materials so that nobody will hurt himself.
and jerusalem without a bit of pathos is not jerusalem:
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