Surreal: the contrast between a placid rural scenery and the hate and greed which emanates from the settlers, from people who have lost touch with humanity or simply never known it. The surreality comes in these great, rushing waves of disparity and rapid changes. And the ignorance and hatred is unlike any anger I’ve experienced or witnessed, foreign to my perceptions or memories. Sometimes one can ignore it, for a few moments of respite, but then the tragic reality of the pain and devastation this greed, lust, and hatred has wrought over the decades and today continues to strangle with.

Rendering it further incomprehensible are the unexpected niceties –a flower, a grasshopper, tea invites from locals, outbursts of song, nice smells in the air…

I doze, between a morning round of the area –making our presence visible and getting to know our surroundings and temporary neighbours –and later conversations.

In that half-stupor between levels of consciousness, the roar of unseen planes overhead once again brings reality crashing back: I’m in Occupied Palestine and things are not getting better, just more Occupied, more tragic, more dissected and humiliating.

Those planes could be training, could be fear-mongering, could be going to Gaza. All possibilities are horrifying.

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