Then two young Arabs entered.

On the other hand - I don't want to go anywhere. Because it's my city and their city. And they didn't do anything wrong by going in to hide from the rain, and warm their hands and souls, with a cup of boiling coffee. And I can already imagine the whole coffee quickly emptying, and only they sitting in the middle alone with dark eyes and returning to their different neighborhood. Forever.

And maybe they're like me, the silent majority who want a sane life. But maybe not. And despite the urge to live that beats hard in my veins, I don't want to move. I don't want to give in to it and go.

Because if I take any active action now, this fear will creep up on me everywhere and make me close myself off and run away again and again, just because of what's inside my head.

And I can't concentrate on anything else anymore, and I can't help but follow their movements. And update those dear to me on what's happening, and hold on tight, not to get up and leave.

And then they leave.

And the situation seems to be over. But this city and its complexity and the precarious and unfair lives of all of us, are staying here, not going anywhere.

And the rain continues to pour, and the main headlines are about millimeters and a subtropical climate.