At the via Dolorosa

And these are ways I love Jerusalem: I love her the way I love myself, sometimes with unexplicable hatred, and other times with complete longing, and a sense of amazement.

Here is the way I love Jerusalem; I love her the way I discover a new corner inside of myself.Accross from Jaffa Gate is a nice shady area where one can have picnics.

Here is the way I love Jerusalem; I love her in the way I put on my make up, getting ready for a party, unsure of what I will wear and trying on different dresses. And, in this way, Jerusalem is never too sure what she will wear, to welcome and celebrate each occasion, each group of people.

Here is the way I love Jerusalem; I love her in the forbidden, surreal way of two young soldiers at the corner of the road of via de la rosa, sitting near their jeep. A young man, from Bab Hatta ( a neighborhood in Jerusalem), working as a waiter in a Pizza place at the corner joins the two soldiers as he pulls his own chair. And a crowd of religious Jews pass on the road of via de la rosa, dancing, celebrating purim. And a few hours ago, in the early morning, other crowds of Christians had passed the same road, to celebrate good friday. The soldiers and the waiter share together their maintenance of peace and quiet, having served the customers, of whom I am one, the travellers and pilgrimes.

I mourn slowly but surely my never ending departures, my becoming an anonymous woman with plain make up, if at all, with no new discoveries, no occasions to dress up for, no familiarity of the present, no dignity of my past, and above all, no comapany of soldiers and waiters.