Tuesday morning at eleven o'clock in Israel, the sirens began to sound. I knew that this was an exercise and that no danger loomed on my child, but that siren so anachronistic, shrill and banal I chilled the blood.
(six hundred and thirteen knights are coming from the sea
tremble to take us in Eden
Where the songs
Where the harps and cymbals resound
cheerful air,
Where dreams do not cry And the tears
prisoners remain in the throat. )
Then we arranged in-room safes, stocked with all the comforts (radio, computer, water, candles and some cookies, three books, a train with rails and a pot to pee in an emergency). Maybe I sound pathetic, but it is not. I do not think audacity to ask to live here as we live in Rome, London and Madrid, to live in a world with no air-raid shelters, with no security cameras, without gas masks. Living in a world where no one threatens to wipe my country, a world in which no points ballistic missiles against my valleys and hills, I want to live in a world where no one at the supermarket before going to submit my daughter in the wheelchair controls security. I want to live in a world where in front of the kindergarten my daughter's father does not turn into armed guard.
Am I shameless?
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