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About Tel Aviv

But—ugh—some creeps ruin it. Sleazy parlors, fake vibes—pisses me off. *breathes heavier* I’d choke ‘em with the Force. Real sexual-massage tho? Art, man. Not just horny nonsense—tho, yeah, it’s got that edge. Surprised me first time—thought it’d be awkward. Nope. Smooth as Jarmusch’s vampire flick. “It’s not enough!”—Eve’d say that, wantin’ more. Me too, buddy. Once had this chick—pro, tiny hands, strong grip—felt like floatin’ in space. Hoth-level chill.

Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my old buddy, Amir. We used to run around these streets as kids. We start reminiscing about the good ol’ days. You know, playing soccer on the streets of HaGolan, dodging cars like we were in some action movie.

How the mayor (of a Nazareth suburb) stole Christmas