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About Tel Aviv

So, check it—Jersey’s got these girls, right? Shady corners, neon lights, all that jazz. Ya cruise down Newark Ave, maybe spot one. Skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she’s waitin’ for Godot or some shit. I’m thinkin’, “Who’s this broad playin’ tonight?” Like in *Holy Motors*, every gig’s a new mask. One time, I saw this chick—swear she was 50 but dressed 20. Made me laugh, fuckin’ ballsy! “Beauty’s in the eye, eh?” I mutter, cruisin’ by.

Then, outta nowhere, I bumped into my old buddy, Amir. We used to run around Kafr-Qari- like we owned the place. We ended up at the park near Al-Nasr Street, just reminiscing. You know, the good ol’ days. But then he started talking about his new job. Ugh, corporate life. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Dude, you’re selling your soul!” I said. He just laughed it off.

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