Tour

They could only go as far as the wall. They would worship not the temple on the Mount, but the Wall of the Fall. Flail yourself at the Wall, for you are not allowed in. I was fortunate. I didn't want to get in. But they had to have a wall of their own. How otherwise do you tell whose side you-on. Let's play: kept-out, keep-out: Nah - naw-Naw naw-naw - Naw. Or so I hear; there was no-wall, when I was there, except the wailing-wall; the wall wails for who? "Here I plant my tombstone. And all-after shall-worship the memory of me // and the institution of my stone-tomb."

I was running out of money and places to go for the time allotted me. Anyway I am heading where it is warmer before I go where it is colder. The weather is fine, and I will go for a walk to the old city. My hotel is in the very center of New Jerusalem and yet fairly cheap. So things are good here for the time. The weather is sunny and fairly warm. By that I mean it is warm enough for a short sleeve shirt in the sun, but not in the shade. I think I will be leaving here on Wednesday and going back to Tel Aviv for my mail, which I hope will have arrived. From Tel Aviv I will be going south to Eilat. Was not sure what I would do from there.

We all went our separate ways. After a short stay in Tel Aviv I decided to go to Eilat, the furthermost town south, which while warm was not-much else, since I did not go to Africa. The kibbutz, of the guess who girls, was down that way; so I thought I would drop-by on my way back and collect my money-owed. I had planned to stay in Eilat for a while, but there was not much there: a cafe with out-door entrance patio, a small store, and an even tinier, try to find it on a map library.

Hardly anyone around and sunny-warm to getting-hot all day. I am writing this report from Eilat. It is the end of my journey. I am as far-south as I can go; in Israel. The town is but a few buildings; and a beach, next to the blue glare of water-wish into gray. There is a coffee-house with a front entry veranda, wood tables taken from rubble piles and a one-room library. Just sun-sand and blue water. A bit to stark for me. Give me a London fog any-day, but better yet is a San Francisco fog, the blue glaze - is-it or is-it not? I sat at a table on the veranda with coffee-Elatte. What but-read. No-place for a non-reader. For reading, it was like a Convincent van Woe painting, in the hundred degree sun all-day, burning-out wonders of Gossamer. There was a beach and I slept on it. Apparently just a week ago; there had been a hundred-people - sleeping where I now-was. There was an Israeli-army sweep, they said, cleaned them all-out. There were two other people near by - each alone, and we slept on the beach all three.

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