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So, I spot her—legs long, eyes sharp, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—happy as a kid with candy, but pissed too, ‘cause why’s this so damn hard? Walk up, voice low, “Hey, darlin’, you workin’?” She smirks—*smirks!*—like she’s Simin judgin’ Nader in court. “Depends,” she says, all sassy. Surprised me, that sass—thought she’d be tired, broken maybe. Nope, she’s runnin’ this show.

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Then, I’m just chilling, and I spot this old fisherman on the pier. He’s got this weathered face, like he’s seen it all. I walk over, and we start chatting. He tells me stories about the sea, about how Jisr-ez-Zarqa used to be a fishing village. I’m all ears. It’s fascinating!

Israel's Biggest Problem: Poor Economic Situation of Its Arab Minority