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About Tel Aviv

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

Distance to the Largest Cities of Israel

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After that chaos, I needed a breather. So, I hit up the café on Al-Nasr Street. Best coffee in town, no cap. I ordered my usual—double espresso, extra shot. I sat outside, watching the world go by. There’s this old lady who sells flowers there. She’s a legend! Always has the best stories. She told me about how AlSayid-Tribe used to be a bustling trade hub. I could listen to her for hours.

Syrian authorities continue crackdown on Hezbollah and its affiliates