A kid in Gaza died of malnourishment today and I spent the afternoon discussing the situation of the individual soldier in Gaza and the alternatives available to him/her.  That they shouldn’t be Gaza in the first place was a given to all of us – but we haven’t figured out a way to change the government.  But what is a soldier supposed to do?

I’m sitting in a concert hall entranced by a wonderful surprise – the concert we were meant to hear was a little stiff and maybe a bit pretentious but the conductor got sick at the last moment and since he was the only one prepared for these obscure pieces we got an amazing violinist Etamar Zorman instead.  So I was happy and in the mood to listen to Scheherazade carefully in the second part.  And there I imagined my political dream come true.  There is the tyrannical sultan and the woman who convinces him through stories that dialogue that they can make harmony together.  I know this is a crazy interpretation of Rimsky-Korsokov – but it made sense at the moment…