Vladislav Davidzonthe art of doing the impossible – thoughts on the great turning

I have made my home on the road in Budrus, a quiet, almost sleepy town whose only fault has been to exist very near the border of the Green Line. The Israelis got real creative here, and have placed a training firing range right near the town, so there is gunshots being heard almost around the clock. What a way to terrorize a town.

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So it is that time yet again. I hopped onto a plane to London and then took another shuttle out to Tel Aviv. I had no trouble getting through the customs. I suppose I fit the racist criteria of blonde hair, blue eyes… or in this case it was because I am Jewish with distant family in Israel, and as I really do not fit the profile of an activist (or terrortourist as they seem to now call us, although I much more prefer the more precise term “peacemaker” that the border patrol labeled me in Nablus last time around.)

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