Yesterday I was at the Dead Sea. (Don't think I go every day. The trip takes 2 hours and I work 6 days a week. I haven't been there in 7 years.) There was a kid there, around the age of 10, who was wailing apparently because the skin on his back was burning him. I didn't know if he had a cut or a burn, but my Hebrew was too poor to discuss this with him. None of the Israelis were helping him at all. I motioned that he should go under the outdoor shower. There were only 2 of them in the entire narrow walled up men's section that we were in, but the people using them wouldn't relinquish them. After a while, another man came over to help. I could tell that he wasn't Israeli because he didn't have that look of murder in his eyes that so many Israeli men have. So I said to this man in English, "It's frustrating that I can't talk to these people." He said, "It's the same with me." I said, "How long have you been living here?...
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