T zadok would always remember that day when he and Miriam had moved to Jerusalem to a fourth-floor apartment in a shabby building in an alley off Rechov Shivtei Yisrael. From the window Jerusalem lay before them sparkling with a thousand lights: the Old City the New City the light rail that passed between the two with its gentle ding-dong. From their window they could see the palm trees and the walls of the Old City the lights and the shadows.
“Wow what a view!” cried Miriam.
“The Holy City ” said Tzadok. Something strange was thrashing about inside him gaining power. It was making his hands shake. Miriam didn’t notice a thing.
“The Holy City ” shouted a chorus of voices in his head. “The city of the Holy Temple!” This was the metropolis where Dovid and Shlomo walked where Yeshayahu and Yirmiyahu prophesied the city where two Temples were built and both destroyed.
In the middle of the night Tzadok woke with a start from a frightening dream. But the dream didn’t dissipate.
