My home.

That is my little city, which so much history is laid upon her shoulders.
The colors, the lights, the people. Yemin Moshe, Nahalaot- my neighborhood, the Shuk (market), downtown... All of it- altogether. It is what I call home. My base. My bed. The place I come back to, even though it's sometimes so together, and even though it's sometimes so alone. That is Jerusalem. It is a magnet for weirdos, and a magnet for missionaries. it is a place for prayer and a place you wanna run away from. I sometimes wanna run away from. But even though I wanna run away, when I write, I sometimes cannot believe that I really live here...- in Jerusalem.