There were three of us quite orphaned: Nahshi, Shmulik and I.
After love bites between Shmulik and Nahshi, the coffee came on our luxurious table.
Shmulik, gave me an amusing quiz that happily tested my failure to remember the names of the eighteen residents of the Poalim Yod residance – our common childhood home in Ramat Gan which no longer exists.
This matter comes to say that everything that has been said and celebrated so far has been a discussion at the level of Ephesians who are entertaining in themselves.
We exchanged experiences about the week’s useless round of violence, updated about our acquaintances beyond the fence and read some of Israel Pinkas’s poems when, around three o’clock, Rami emerged from among the clouds of haze.
We were all happy to see that his condition had improved remarkably: not that he put on any meat, God forbid, but he returned to his previous thinness and his face was as good as it was in the past. Rami’s appearance also failed to raise the level of the discussion and he soared again and again –
Until he landed a very practical and generous offer: he offers to buy the lighthouse a dedicated vehicle that will help transport the equipment and make it easier for the struggling people who have been sitting in the sulfur factory for five years. The proposal was made and here it is before us, and here we come in front of this generosity and large-heartedness, for the days when solutions will come.
This time we were: Shmulik, Rami, Nahshi and Hayuta.
concluded and enjoyed Hayuta.