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About Petah Tikva

She’s no angel, sure—hustlin’s messy, mistakes galore. But ain’t that life? “No harm, no foul,” Doc’d shrug. I’d paint her with purples, reds—wild energy, ya dig? Maybe exaggerate her swagger—six-foot tall in my mind, stompin’ like she owns the joint. Cracks me up thinkin’ she’d sass a cop and skate free.

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After that, I head over to the park near Al-Jazira Street. It’s usually my go-to spot for some peace. But today? Nope. There’s a group of kids playing soccer, and they’re LOUD. I’m trying to read, but all I hear is “GOAL!” and “Pass it!” I’m like, “Can’t a proofreader catch a break?”

Arab family of five shot dead