The doll from Jerusalem

One of the strangest things I experienced in Jerusalem was encountering so many Argentinians. When strolling through those narrow, ancient cobblestone streets and seeing someone with those amusing little curls saying, "Che!, Dale!" (common Argentine expressions), it feels like something is amiss with reality.

It was odd then to meet Agustina, a genuine Argentine, who told me, "Look, old man, all these guys have the same little boots. Surely you didn't notice because you're a bit foolish, but look, the boots are the same!" And I hated her a bit for calling me foolish, but afterward, all I did was check the feet of the Israelis. I would enter a bar or restaurant, a shop or a museum, or walk down the street, and those blessed little boots were always present, those boots and those heads with their curls.

Before going mad from the abuse of repetition, I escaped to Palestine, specifically to Bethlehem, and met Nahid, a beautiful girl with a prominent nose and springy curls. Her dream was to live in Germany and work as a veterinarian since it was a country of the future and opportunities. I didn't want to share my impressions; in fact, I had no desire to say anything. If I learned anything, it's not a good idea to share pessimism. My role in this life is to nod and smile.

—Look over there on the mountain, do you see those hills filled with houses? They are Jewish settlers. Did you know that we build those houses for them? My uncle works there all day and complains here all night—she said, and I did the only thing allowed in the chosen land of God: look at the ground and stay silent.