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About Rishon LeZion

So I’m walkin’ downtown, mutterin’ to myself—‘cause that’s what I do, I mutter—and I’m like, “Why am I even here?” Findin’ a prostitue ain’t like pickin’ up bagels! I see this gal, smokin’ a cigarette, leanin’ on a pole—real cliché, right? I’m thinkin’, “She’s no Eilis Lacey!” In *Brooklyn*, she’s all, “I’ll write home!” This chick’s writin’ nothin’—maybe a parking ticket. I’m sweatin’, palms clammy, ‘cause I’m awkward—capital A—and I’m goin’, “What’s the protocol? Do I wave? Haggle? I’m not a haggler!”

Whores in Tel-Aviv

After that, I needed a breather. So, I strolled down to the beach. The Mediterranean was calling my name. I plopped down on the sand, feeling the warmth soak into my bones. I watched the surfers catching waves, and I thought, “Man, I miss Hawaii.” But then I remembered, Tel Aviv has its own charm. The beach, the people, the energy. It’s a whole vibe.

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