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About Jerusalem

Love it, I do—happy vibes, chill as fuck. Sexual-massage ain’t just horny shit, nah, it’s old as hell. Ancient Greeks, them freaky philosophers, rubbed down athletes—oil, sweat, the works! Little known fact: they called it “apotherapy,” fancy, huh? Bet they didn’t expect it’d turn into *this*—some chick in Bangkok braggin’ she can “heal your soul” with a $20 handy! Surprised me, that did—thought it was all sleaze, but nah, history’s got layers, bro.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Rechov HaShalom. You know, the one with the best coffee? Yeah, that one. I order my usual – a double espresso, extra shot, because I need that jolt. But guess what? They’re outta beans! Like, how do you run outta coffee beans? I mean, c’mon! I’m standing there, all grumpy, and the barista’s like, “Sorry, we’ll have more in an hour.” An hour? I could’ve walked to Tel Aviv and back in that time!

Figure 12. Mr Eliezer Gorelick, an etrog grower from Kfar Habad,...