We sit around sometimes in the shelter, especially when the rockets are extended, telling stories of previous wars.  Last night, when we thought there might be some kind of deal, someone started talking about the time he spent a year in Gaza long ago returning war prisoners.  Someone else spoke of the war that broke out in 1948 when the UN declared Israel a state.  We sit within the bare walls of the shelter, worrying about the damage done by the present rocket that shook our walls.  

It seems endless.