Hiya Nicky, how’s it going? Tel Aviv is cool, we left the kibbutz — at last! — two days ago, must confess picking bananas is so not my idea of a good time! — and now am chilling on the beach and writing to you. How’s London? I heard on the television — we get BBC World at the hostel — that it’s snowing? No way! Ha ha ha. Here it’s so hot, the sea is blue and calm and I’m thinking about getting an ice cream in a minute — yeah, getting the munchies a little. Jason picked up some local weed yesterday from some guy in a club and, well, you know me, the beach is the best place for it, innit! We’re thinking of going to Eilat, it’s a city on the Red Sea where it’s even hotter — ! — and then maybe into the Sinai — that’s in Egypt. Duh. Anyway so like everything is pretty cool and we’re just gonna backpack for a bit and check it all out, and meanwhile Tel Aviv is fun, had too much beer last night (no change there then!) and it’s nice to just lie on the beach and relax.
Not sure what just happened. The ground kinda rolled — you know, like when you shake the duvet or something? — like that. It felt really strange. I thought it was an earthquake and shit but the sea didn’t move at all, and then it passed, and all the old people that hang around on the beach in the morning just looked at each other and then kinda shrugged. So I figured it was nothing. But —
Man, Nicky, I don’t know what’s going on. I guess the best thing to do if there’s an earthquake is to stay outside and away from buildings, right? I’m sure I saw that on the Discovery Channel or something, you know what Jason is like with those retarded programmes. Sorry. I know I shouldn’t say “retarded” but honestly, all those —
Shit, something just came out of the water!
It was huge but it had no shape, it was like a massive cone of air, it moved like a corkscrew from the water to the surface and kinda hovered there and if you tried to look at it directly it blocked the sun and also it gave me a headache and I had to turn away. I’m scared. Even the old people look worried. One of them’s got a radio and he was listening to some local station, some weird Hebrew music or whatever, and all of a sudden it just stopped, the music, and there was this weird loud static. It almost sounded like a . . . I don’t know. Like a language, at least if insects had a language. It definitely didn’t sound like Hebrew, even though the only word I can say in it is “shalom.” Oh, and “Ma kore?”, which is like a “What’s happening!” and “Ken,” which is yes, and “Lo,” which is no. You don’t really need much more than that. Man, I’m feeling a little woozy. I wish I didn’t have that spliff now. Anyway, this thing from the water, it —
OMG! OMG! There were like — I don’t know — like three dozen of these things kind of, kind of growing out of the water, like they were being born out of the sea, and they hovered there and then they moved off, they just passed by us, me and all the old people, and into the road and then — I’m scared, Nicky. Do you think earthquakes are like — they’re like — animals? Like, I know it’s something to do with plates and stuff, or is it shelves? — but what if earthquakes were like, well, like spirits? You know what I mean? There are these horrible sounds, there are buildings in the city and they’re just collapsing, and I can hear helicopters in the distance and people screaming, and all the old people look really confused, like they can’t decide if they want to run into town or stay right where they are. But I tell you, these things didn’t touch us. I vote to stay here. Thank God for this letter, at least, you know, it gives me something to do, to focus on, otherwise I don’t know what to do — I mean, what about Jason? Shit! I totally, like, forgot about him. He’s at the hostel, I mean, is he going to be alright? I thought Israelis were supposed to be good at this sort of thing, like emergency response and stuff, with all those bombings you hear about, but this is just, like, escalating, I’m trying not to listen but they are screaming, Nicky, they’re screaming and I’m scared.
OK, I’m better now. Sorry about the handwriting. My hands are still a bit shaky. How long have I been here? It feels like a long time’s just passed, like when you take an E at a club and all of a sudden it’s morning and you’re staggering out and your legs ache — you know what I mean? The sky is dark now, and I see stars, but they are like no stars I’ve ever seen. When I stand with my back to the sea — though I’m scared, I’m scared of doing it! — I can see Tel Aviv, a white city covered in black smoke, and hear the explosions, and the whistle of rockets overhead, though they have almost died out now. It is quiet. There are no more screams. It’s like either everyone else is dead, or hiding. Behind me, the sea is a blue-black bruise, I’m —
Nicky, I just looked out onto the city again and — I don’t know how to describe it, just one more crazy thing in a crazy day, maybe — (or maybe I’m just wasted? I hope this is just like a bad trip, or like an acid-flashback like the time we went to the zoo — do you remember? That was horrible) — but as I watched Tel Aviv I saw something growing in the distance, rising slowly over the roofs of the city, and as it grew it toppled buildings and cars — it looks like a mountain. I watched it for a long time. It grew — it grows — over the horizon and already it seems larger than it could possibly be. I don’t know if I can explain it. There is a sense of vastness about it, and already it is impossible to see its top, only the lower slopes of it where the remnants of buildings still stand. There’s a sort of haze around it. As I watched it I thought how well it fitted in with these strange new stars in the sky. It’s growing still, though slower than before. Sometimes I look and I think I see things moving on its lower slopes — nothing I can describe, but giant, shapeless forms that move slowly, with a kind of ancient, patient gait, maybe like caged animals who had been let out at long last from imprisonment — it scares me, Nicky, but at the same time there is something so awesome, so majestic about them, that you find it hard to pull away, and when you do the world around you seems less real, somehow meaningless against those distant shadows. I hope Jason will be alright. I’m staying on the beach. Strangely, it feels almost safe here. It’s quite crowded now, lots of people came running from the town, and the old folks are still here, and now there are fires and a lot of people talking but mostly it’s in Hebrew so I can’t understand. It feels —
It feels strangely free, to be standing here, alone in a crowd, on the beach, watching the cold dark stars and their mountain, with my back to the sea. Already London seems like a dream, although I wonder — is this happening there too? And then I wonder if I’ll ever find out. I’m going to try and get some food now, Nicky, and will write you more later.
Love,
Shell