This is about love and hate, this is about missing, about going back home.
this is about Jerusalem.
last night I dreamed I just arrived back to Jerusalem, it was night, chilled air, night street light. I took off my jacket or sweater to feel the cold, I was so happy
I felt I'm about to cry.

then I woke up,  Biella, Italy.

in a way I'm in Jerusalem in my head for few weeks now. it's hard to explain but I hate / love this city. I love her at night and hate her in the day. I love my friends and hate their neighbors, love the ambience in Saturday (Shabat) and hate the ones who try to force it on me, I love escaping it, imagining not going back for years and enjoy coming back after a week.
these were my streets, my stones, my smell in the air. me and my friends fought her war, demonstrations of hundreds against thousands, fighting conservatism, religious superstitions, primitivism.   she was my Jerusalem but we lost her to powerful people with powerful believes.

I haven't been there four months. this week I'm going back.

then leave again.