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About Ashdod

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

But then, he says something that hits me. He talks about how the city’s changed. How it’s growing, but still holds onto its roots. I’m like, wow, that’s deep. I mean, I’m just a writer, but that kinda stuff gets to me.

Figure 5. Terraced houses in Nazareth Illit, planned by Avraham Ventura...