Tomorrow we depart for the Holy Land. First Jerusalem, then settle into PNN's office in the Bethlehem Governorate. We must return to Fenton:

Stone cries to stone,
Heart to heart, heart to stone,
And the interrogation will not die
For there is no eternal city
And there is no pity
And there is nothing underneath the sky
No rainbow and no guarantee –
There is no covenant between your God and me.

Every particle, every stone, of Jerusalem is sentenced to an anxious existence; the greater the dissonance in the world, the greater the resolution sought in the cosmic potential of this city. But there is no city that can hold anything beyond the sum of its inhabitants' lives. Jerusalem's promises of eternity, salvation and deliverence...well, to put it mildly, there is "no guarantee."

The city was sacked.
Jordan was driven back.
The pious Christians burned the Jews alive.
This is a minaret.
I’m not finished yet.
We’re waiting for reinforcements to arrive.
What was your mother’s real name?
Would it be safe today to go to Bethlehem?

Here we are, post-post-'67. And to get to Beit Sahour, I won't be lying about Jewish ancestry I don't have.

Who packed your bag?
I packed my bag.
Where was your uncle’s mother’s sister born?
Have you ever met an Arab?
Yes, I am a scarab.
I am a worm. I am a thing of scorn.
I cry Impure from street to street
And see my degradation in the eyes I meet.

 I'll let you know if I'm treated to this line of questioning. And what I see in the eyes I meet.