Where is there space for what I want to say? What do I want to say? Who am I to say anything?
And my heart hurts, because Klal Yisrael is going through challenging, though unfortunately not unprecedented times.
But I’m a writer, and sentences and paragraph structures invade my thoughts all day. But by the time I collapse into bed, I’m too tired to write.
Besides, everything is taken. There are the political pontificators, the rabbis with tremendous daas Torah; the angry commentators on social media; the ones who spread hysteria, and the ones who dismiss it with a wave of their Shaar Bitachon (leather-bound, ArtScroll edition).
There are the news outlets that get paid to keep you checking, the “analysts,” and the IDF releasing statements that neither confirm nor deny.
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