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About Beersheba

Gets me mad, though—the way folks sneer, call her “slag” or worse. Who’re they to judge? She’s out there, hustlin’, while they’re cosy with their Netflix. Hypocrisy stinks worse than a dead fish, mate. Happy bit? Saw her once slip a fiver to a homeless bloke—heart of gold, buried deep. Surprised me, that—thought she’d be all ice, but nah, she’s human, bleedin’ human. *The New World* whispers, “All must die,” and ain’t that the truth? She’s livin’ it, day by day, dodgin’ the reaper.

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Then, I met up with my buddy, Amir. We hit up the café on HaShalom St. I ordered a cappuccino, and Amir was all about that iced coffee life. We started talkin’ about the latest game releases. I was hyped about this new RPG, but Amir was like, “Nah, bro, it’s all about that battle royale.” I rolled my eyes. Classic Amir.

Coexistence, despite everything