After sitting at the cafe in Tel Aviv for an hour I began to get the hint that she wasn't coming. I take a few last sips of my bottled water that I ordered to politely pass the time until she was to arrive. I was really looking forward to the glass of wine I was planning on drinking once she joined me, but with that prospect in the shitter, I gave her one last phone call and wasn't surprised to reach the voice mail again. My notebook that I carry with me was now ten pages deep in a new thought which is about the only positivity I can muster at the moment. Defeated, and pissed off I pay my bill, and begin to walk down Shenkin St. to kill some time. Bums, hippies, and couples line the street and I, at the moment, am contributing to this backdrop and feel merely part of the scenery as everyone passes encompassed in their respective bubbles. I make my way down to the beach where I can sit and continue the idle thoughts that will eventually add to the next chapter in Good Tidings after some editing, cutting, and repairing. On my right, I notice a bookstore with some English titles, which is a rarity in these parts so I make my way inside and the bells on the door ring as I walk inside. The clerk turns her head with her cappuccino still in her hand and shoots me a polite smile and sticks her face back into whatever it is that she's reading.