Everything she had was in a shopping bag — and now it was lost
Sitting at the end of the bench, she watches chapters of life passing her by. People surge onward, some with pinched expressions, others with the calm certainty of those who belong to society.
Dalia wonders what it would feel like to belong. She herself sits on the fringe, like the tree that falls, unheard and alone, in the forest. Is there a sound of impact if no one’s around to hear the crashing of the leaves and branches, the thunder of the mighty trunk hitting the ground? Does it even happen at all?
Above her head is plastered an enlarged image of Shimon Peres. Now there’s a man who has a place in society, Dalia thinks. And based on the campaign that was taking over the country, his position was so comfortable that there was probably enough space for him to share.
But what did that mean to her? Nothing. He was just a cold face on the wall.
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