N
ovember 5 2014
Jerusalem was used to seeing blood. Her old walls didn’t shake when two more people were rammed by a hellbent killer in a car.
Her earth absorbed the blood as always. And whatever the earth didn’t absorb was cleaned up by the Zaka volunteers. If a few electric poles or fences got bent out of shape or crushed under speeding wheels the municipal workers would arrive with surprising promptness to put it all right again.
As usual hundreds of onlookers were milling around just outside the police barrier of plastic tape that fenced off the scene of the attack craning their necks to get a view. A sweaty reporter was shouting into his cell phone in a voice that was meant to sound dramatic: “Eh so we are here at the scene of the car ramming attack on Highway 1 eh the details are not yet clear it appears that the terrorist drove his vehicle straight into a group of Border Patrol officers. Eh hundreds of curious onlookers are crowding around despite requests from the police to keep away…”
“You’re a curious onlooker yourself ” someone heckled him. “You know you came here to see a little blood.”
