the setting: some post-apocalyptic future: what used to be Gaza.
The sun is slowly setting. A purplish blue hue settles like a veil over the landscape.
Centuries ago the land was a holy place of sorts.
It was marked by cobblestone roads, dome-shaped buildings and burning incense.
But now it's a scarred and tangled mess of debris and moss and stains. This is where we find Amr, lighting a fire in a heap of rubbish..
He wears a faded regulation army rain jacket. He pulls the hood over his face as a cold wind kicks up the leaves around him. He warms his hands in the fire. He allows himself to be momentarily distracted by the swirl of leaves.
Footsteps approach him. Amr stiffens, reaches for his rifle, and tries to make out the stranger. He tries to look for a signa in the newcomer's overcoat that marks him a fellow veteran, but his eyes aren't as good as they were. Amr shouts at the newcomer to halt and identify himself.
The stranger identifies himself as Joshua. "Joshua? That is an Israeli name. You are no friend here." Joshua slowly takes a step forward and replies, "Or anywhere. But may I share your fire?"
Joshua is now close enough for the fire to shine on his face. Amr peers up at his face. Joshua's face appeared young except where his smile caused it to wrinkle. A smile, and not a smirk. It did not, however, placate Amr. "You want me to share my fire with you!? Who are you, an Israeli, to ask me of such a favor? Do you mock me?"
For Israelis have no dealings with Palestinians.
On any other day, with anyone else, the conversation would have ended.
But Joshua, without breaking his smile, takes another step forward.
The sun is slowly setting. A purplish blue hue settles like a veil over the landscape.
Centuries ago the land was a holy place of sorts.
It was marked by cobblestone roads, dome-shaped buildings and burning incense.
But now it's a scarred and tangled mess of debris and moss and stains. This is where we find Amr, lighting a fire in a heap of rubbish..
He wears a faded regulation army rain jacket. He pulls the hood over his face as a cold wind kicks up the leaves around him. He warms his hands in the fire. He allows himself to be momentarily distracted by the swirl of leaves.
Footsteps approach him. Amr stiffens, reaches for his rifle, and tries to make out the stranger. He tries to look for a signa in the newcomer's overcoat that marks him a fellow veteran, but his eyes aren't as good as they were. Amr shouts at the newcomer to halt and identify himself.
The stranger identifies himself as Joshua. "Joshua? That is an Israeli name. You are no friend here." Joshua slowly takes a step forward and replies, "Or anywhere. But may I share your fire?"
Joshua is now close enough for the fire to shine on his face. Amr peers up at his face. Joshua's face appeared young except where his smile caused it to wrinkle. A smile, and not a smirk. It did not, however, placate Amr. "You want me to share my fire with you!? Who are you, an Israeli, to ask me of such a favor? Do you mock me?"
For Israelis have no dealings with Palestinians.
On any other day, with anyone else, the conversation would have ended.
But Joshua, without breaking his smile, takes another step forward.
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