The group took a short walk to the Western wall to view firsthand the holiest site for Jews. Come to think of it, everything is a short walk in Jerusalem, it just seems like longer because of all the visuals you have to process.
The Western Wall is sometimes mistakenly referred to as the
Wailing Wall, supposedly because Jews go there to openly cry while praying, but
I saw nothing of the sort. Carmen had
brought along a number of prayers on behalf of her neighbours that were to be
placed in the cracks of the wall as is customary. Since my father has the good sense to not
believe in such things, and since I clearly don’t even in the absence of good
sense, neither of us were carrying any papers and we agreed to help her. Our time at the wall was brief and I spent the
majority of it taking photos.
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| Hopes and dreams being swept up to be burned |
I’ve always said that the camera is a bridge between
cultures and that was proven to be true when my camera drew the attention of a
group of young Orthodox boys. They
mugged for the camera and eventually approached me. When they realized that I didn’t speak Hebrew
sent Mordecai over; he as their well-spoken ambassador to the English. I asked the boys to take a photo with me, to
which Mordecai replied “only if you put it on the internet.” He had just met me, and yet he already knew
me so well.
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| Mordecai, front and centre |
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