“Nonsense, a new crazy joke from my “invisible friend” I thought, having woken up, and quickly got out of bed and was not being fussed about the Delphian dream, but I should have been. The hands of the clock, hanging on the white wall, froze, indicating the beginning of the tenth hour.

      – Great, I’ve almost overslept, – I said out loud and went to the shower at a brisk walk.

      This May evening was surprisingly cool for the Israeli climate. I did not want to bother my head about the choice of attire. After several sleepless nights fatigue prevented me from thinking rationally. From the back of the chair, standing alone in the corner of the bedroom, I took a short black dress that was on me yesterday, or maybe… well, not maybe, but also the day before yesterday. Having put it on, I felt the smell of male perfume and cigarette smoke absorbed into the fabric.

      My mobile phone, which was next to the pillow, made its presence felt at a due time.

      – Anna, I’m downstairs, come out, – the weary voice of the driver came.

      – All right.

      I threw the phone into a large bag filled with the things I needed for work, threw it on my shoulder, sighed and said to myself: I can handle it, fatigue is just a signal sent by my tired brain, and my body is stronger than I think.

      It does not matter, whether this statement is true or not, the main thing is that it makes sense to exist, and if you believe in it, it will certainly be so. And I believed in it.

      Having approached the car where the driver was waiting for me, I opened the door, threw the bag onto the back seat, then took the front seat and asked him:

      – Where are we going?

      – Not far from here, just 15 minutes, – he answered, moving the car from a standstill.

      The driver’s name is Dani (by the way, he’s a rather attractive young guy). He was eager to get to the heights in the service in the Israel Defense Forces. At the moment, his meager salary was enough only for basic necessities, so he had to take a side job at night.

      In Israel, the rhythm of life is crazy, especially in the center, where people have several jobs, forgetting about sleep and rest. They are constantly going somewhere, creating traffic jams, being in a hurry and nervous. Shabbat, according to the Jews faith, was supposed to slow down this endless madness, to give at least one day of peace and quiet during the week, but the power of money turned out to be stronger than faith, and most of those living here worked even on Sabbath.

      I will say this: political affairs in the state of the country, is not my main concern. Moreover I don’t watch TV or read newspapers, but I would like to quickly note one important thing (I won’t go too deeply into it), shedding light on one of the prominent features of the Israeli state. Hostilities in the south of the country, momentarily subsiding so that everyone could see how good life can be in peace, but just for a moment. Perhaps this is why the Israelis are trying to live by the following principle: Rejoice every day and reconcile with the fact that the ancient problems will not disappear for many centuries to come. As for me, it is hard to get used to such circumstances. When rockets are soaring over your head, you become a believer, you turn to God himself, shuddered from the increasing howl of a siren. The siren sound is the most frightening sound I have ever heard, everything gets quiet after the howl, dead silence, there’s not a rustle to be heard, not a word, not a hint of movement. A few seconds, and then the whistle of approaching rockets is heard, after that goes the roar, some of them fall and explode, sometimes in the yard of the neighboring high-rise building, and some were shoot down by the opposing batteries of the Iron Dome system2.

      Everything worked out – it means that you can continue doing your routine, that is, until the next siren goes off, there is no one who can predict with any accuracy when it will happen, but it will, without a doubt.

      – Am I working alone today? – I asked Dani.

      – Yes, but do not worry, I’ve talked to them on the phone. Two quite steady guys. In any case, I will come up with you, I will give them the necessary instructions, -he encouraged me.

      ***

      In a small room of a cheap hotel, with the windows draped with thick beige curtains and the bed occupying most of the space of the room, there was a pair of representatives of Jewish youth. The guys, a little over twenty, were similar to each other, thin, with barely noticeable light stubble on their cheekbones and the same hairstyles in the latest fashion, when the hair is cut short at the temples, and the remaining long strands are combed together at the back of the head. They were wearing similar T-shirts of the same brand, differing only in color: one in white, and the other in blue. On a low coffee table, pulled up to the bed, there was a plate, and a rolled-up bill and credit card on it, next to this flat plate there was a bottle of whiskey.

      – Will you pour me a drink? – I addressed one of the guys, pointing by a look at the bottle after Dani had left the room.

      – Of course, said the one in the white T-shirt, and reached for a stack of plastic cups.

      We spoke Hebrew, “Anna the capable” mastered the language after several months of her stay in the country, not to say a word about the level of knowledge after less than six years.

      – Are you just dancing? – asked the guy wearing a blue T-shirt. Smiling nicely, he patted the bed with his palm, just on the place next to him where I was supposed to sit.

      I left my bag on the table and had a seat next to him, he handed me a one-dollar bill twisted into a tube. I shook my head slightly, showing my refusal, mentally grinning at the significance of the one-dollar bill. What is the general sense of sniffing, using a piece of paper that equals one dollar, it is the same as drinking champagne for a thousand Euro on the side of the road from disposable cups and chasing it down with a half sour pickle.

      – Yes, only dancing, – I answered confidently and calmly.

      – And for a special fee? – asked the same one, wearing a blue T-shirt, then he bent over the table and, putting one end of the rolled bill in his nostril, inhaled a line of powder that waited patiently for him on the plate.

      – For a special fee, you can call a prostitute. – I considered sex for money to be too low, but dancing, even if half-naked, was quite acceptable in my opinion. And this work did not dill purely in dancing, but in the ability to create a certain mood for the client.

      My companion rubbed his nose and then raised his head and asked:

      – I see,