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Oh, and get this—*Pan’s Labyrinth* vibes hit hard when she says, “Follow me, but don’t look back.” I’m thinkin, “Is this a trick? A test?” Like Ofelia with them grapes—fuckin temptation everywhere. But nah, just a dodgy stairwell to her flat. Smells like cigs and regret—proper authentic. I’m buzzin tho—love the grit, the realness. “This is no place for a princess,” I tease, quotin Del Toro’s vibes. She rolls her eyes— “Gods ain’t my type, mate.”

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So, I finally get my coffee, and I’m feeling good. I stroll down to the old city, you know, where the history is thick like hummus. I’m thinking about how Beersheba used to be this dusty little town, and now it’s all modern and stuff. But then, BAM! I step in a puddle. A huge one. My shoes are soaked. I’m cursing like a sailor. “Great, just great!”

In Beersheba, pioneering locals spearhead desert city’s urban renewal