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About Tel Aviv

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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Then, I head over to the main square. It’s packed! People everywhere, music blasting. I see my buddy, Amir, juggling oranges. Classic Amir. He’s got this goofy grin, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna get hit by a car!” But he just keeps juggling.

Hundreds of dog, sheep, goat corpses openly abandoned in South