Posted by: Sk | February 22, 2009

Chapters 10 & 11

Chapter 10: The courtyard

Two days before the three weeks are over. I’ve studied the place and have a somewhat clear idea of how it works. It’s in fact a second floor T. A second floor. What an idea. Put a prison on a second floor. The torture rooms must be downstairs, I always say to myself, and in any case, it is the psychological impression it awakes. But I don’t think so. There is a long corridor with a heavy door at the end and two offices at the very entry. One is occupied by guards, there are not many but there isn’t much to keep, either. The other belongs to Sask, just in front. Then there are bathrooms and showers and a washing machine you have to pay for if you want to use it. Then there are a series of cells all along the corridor. At the other end there is the coffee machine to the right and the tv room to the left. If you go into the coffee machine room, there is a window to the right, and there, there is a courtyard with cars. To the left though, there is another window, and from there you can see another courtyard, the one with the guy last day. If you go to the left of the tv room there is another door that seems to link to this courtyard. The young man who brings the food every day arrives from there.

As far as I have been told, I will be allowed to go down to the courtyard in two days. Not for the courtyard itself. It seems there is some kind of shop there, where you can even buy toothpaste. Which is interesting, after all. The telephone is in the guard’s office. Such lonelyness.

I have been thinking about all the happenings last weeks and of course I considered the fact that Sask would have refused the accusation she would have left the door open. Such a lier. She had already left the door open. She actually went and picked up my cd – isn’t that to leave the door open? It’s obvious, she came back later, what she sometimes does and profited of the calm of the night in order to get into my room. If I had been waiting for her, blankets make a good type of rope. And she had the keys in her pocket, for sure. And guards are none at night. So? Still say no?

That’s what I said. Wicked stroke. Say ‘that one’ and you’ll be sure she’ll try to show how powerful she is. Of course there is no violation of private space – isn’t that a wicked induction? – because civil rights are none here. But, isn’t there a regulation explicitely forbidding to enter cells at night for, yes, reasons of security? There you are. Sliding banana skins those regulations.

That’s why she disappeared, after. Did you know, did you not know that I knew? That costs you your career. Don’t say no. Of course I attributed the whole to some humanitarian tendency arising from hers being convinced I’m innocent. But that’s because I’m polite – I wouldn’t think such deep considerations may have invaded her mind in reality. But, be honest. What do you prefer – to live in a world where your guards are nothing but wicked torturers or in one where you may think they may be contagiated by some deep attachment to human feelings? I prefer to live in the second even if reality is constantly trying to prove me the contrary.

In any case you’re thrown out of your cell at seven – such timetables (!) after having heard some ringing bell at 6.30. You’re supposed to be ready for some control – that does not exist here factually – at 7.30 and when you have passed a sharp determination of your presence you’re allowed to eat something for breakfast. Cells are closed, so, if you want to change your pullover during the day – kind you want to seduce the guy in front, you have to think about it before leaving it. Then you may spend an eternal day passing from the coffee machine to the tv, where you can play with the computer, too.

It’s well done, finally. The guards, who are, I must say, of deeper social nature, are at the same side than the coffee machine and the spy engines at the same than Sask’s office. You have just to consider these evidences in order to know what you have to take care of.

That’s my identity for a while. A T without tea but with some bitter lemon inside. As long as I don’t get out of it, there is no risk some sudden irruption of frozen orders leads me to the suspicious ground floor. Which in my mind may be nothing but some interdiction falling suddenly on my head. My treasures are the coffee machine, the computer and the tv. I will have to try keeping them. And the window. There may be an expansion of territory in a few days. But I have to be careful – new territory is always possible risk.

I don’t talk to the guards very much. It may look suspicious. But I really insist in looking as if such a job would be horribly boring and as if the realization of the human could not but be the communication in depth with others. If they start talking, possible implications are less.

Sask seems to have disappeared in contemplations on international terrorism. She’s not silly. Certainly she’s thinking of how to take some profit out of the whole – seen already the amount of false steps made by herself. As long as she doesn’t decide to shoot me, it should be all right. My scaled strategy should be having some effect. To leave days pass is better: information does slowly fall into the depth of the unconscious and our immediate awareness having slightly any memory of it, it is still working in the back of our brain.

I have to go on with my plans. After so many days of thought, I decided the best would be to refer first to things having nothing to do with it. It’s not only a question of strategy, it is a psychological feature. I hate people who make of their own destiny the need of imposing it to half the world. Now, that’s my destiny. A long list of accusations. And you should never loose main features of your character even in those situations. So. Contemplations on national behaviour – perhaps she gets the point. If she doesn’t, it’s done for me. But that’s the only narrow path out.

Texts left in the computer

Chapter 11: Maya

Today was a horribly happy day. I’ve been out for the first time in three weeks and bought a coke. The door is open between 8 and 9 at morning and between 3 and 4 the afternoon. It’s really cold outside and the courtyard is empty. Just one basketball basket in the depth, but I don’t know where the ball is. There are not many things in the shop and I don’t need tooth paste yet. The guy I had seen some days before wasn’t there, but that’s probably because I was so eager to get out that I left in the morning and he seems to be there just the afternoon.

I have some distraction freshly arriving on top, since yesterday. Maya arrived in the morning, I mean, she was there when I arrived and I said: “What are you doing here?” And she said, moving her shoulders: “Things.” She was downstairs, she said, in the isolation cells and I started laughing and said, don’t say it is you who wrote the ‘Coffee is miserable’ with lipstick on the wall. Against all my expectations it was true and I asked “Where did you get the lipstick from?” As myself without watch nor keys, without glasses nor belt, could hardly imagine some lipstick would be allowed in the whereabouts. “From the guy in the shop.” She finally said, “cost me 200 shekels.”

That was about all our conversation yesterday, although she asked with suspicion whether ‘the other was not there’ and I said, no, I hadn’t seen anyone for the last weaks, which seemed to cause some relief in her, whose nature was difficult to determine.

In fact she solved some horrible problem I hadn’t been wanting to think about, which were some possible side effects of my agressive strategy in the begining, and this was the possibility Sask would get fed up with me and simply stating that, if ever, my only crime in Israel was an infringement of immigration laws, and that this being worth a 500 shekels fine (she had, in my thoughts, already augmented to 2.300 in order to cover the prison expenses) she’d say: Pay the fine and leave. At that moment, while considering such a frightful possibility I had calculated that I would have to refuse the payment, simply because I hadn’t a penny – which is true, on the other hand – even if to Sask’s mind, most probably, I look as if I had millions in my pockets just because I don’t look as if I were begging for mercy all day, which seems to be the common attitude – I derive from Maya’s – but which I haven’t had time to learn yet. Reason why she’d put the prison expenses on the fine and even if I considered the possibility fines for transgressions of immigration laws would not even be considered in such new country involved for eternal years in war situations, it seemed to me dubious whether my strategy of heavily menacing with a civil trial for abuse in the application of laws would avoid hers contacting my father who, unluckily, would not understand the depth of my lucubrations and certainly pay at once, simply because he’s like that and doesn’t like to think a part of his, which he insists being inside of his children, may be imprisoned somewhere and even less in Israel. It’s a question of image. With such premises I would certainly be kindly accompanied to the airport at my expenses and this would make my trial impossible anyhow. For sure.

This is why I didn’t want to think of it, simply because the chances to solve the question were little and in fact, you must be wanting to believe in some angel getting you out of such a dead end. Here thus my angel: Maya. I may guess why she’s here and this is of unbearable help. I must have still one of her invitations in one of my cd’s and if this is the reason why she’s here, I get the clearest idea you can imagine of what Sask may understand as a national danger. It’s obvious. And even that I should have thought of before, but what, there are so many concepts whose nature has disappeared since 1994. That’s the text.



The Lovers of Jerusalem invite YOU, that means US to


Surround and Embrace our Old City

Of Jerusalem

with personal blessings, shared good wishes and respect.


Jerusalem is the heart of the world. After 40 years of living together, we wish to put aside our differences and disputes and express our love to the holy city and to our human family.


Monday, May 21, 2007

(during a time of many local celebrations)


We shall hold hands around the ancient walls of Jerusalem.

As thousands of hands and hearts join together in love and joy,

we open the possibility of manifesting our highest dreams.




We, who love Jerusalem, come from all the various religious and ethnic communities of Israel, Palestine and the whole world. We will endeavor to respect one another and simply enjoy being together. (Participants who prefer not to hold hands with members of the opposite sex will be respected.)



For more important information:

And innocently she writes her name and telephone number along with her boyfriend’s name and telephone number – which, from a certain point of view should already be some sign of innocence. But that’s it, you see, mass demonstrations, excessive – she would say – hypocritical world loving moods as an excuse to create links to palestinian quarters and bomb up security measures consisting in the sharp separation of quarters in order not to allow possible terrorists may find weak points inside of the social body that may become bridges in the organization of attacks. Some furious student who hasn’t passed examinations, for example. Or some husband who has just be condamned to pay 7000 shekels a month for his wife he’s divorcing from. You have always to be careful with those things.

Although Sask has certainly not driven theory that far so as to consider the possible subjective reasons possibly leading to such disastruous consequences, she must certainly think meetings suspicious. Things that occupy space, that imply people, that necessarily move money. Even more so if Maya, who I would certainly accuse of such a thing, has forgotten, in complete innocence and unawareness of legislation, to ask for the proper permission for such a meeting, permission which is necessary not only in places where the distinction of peace and war is as amphibious as my prison.

Not that I would say Maya is innocent, in the very depth. But the reasons why Maya is not innocent to my eyes are not necessarily those Sask would consider. Considering though very hypothetically things this way it becomes quickly obvious that I must be innocent to Sask’s eyes – although I would pay with my life in Germany or France, certainly – I see it better now that this help has coincidentally arrived from heaven’s realms. That’s why I prefer soldiers after all, they’re so pragmatic. They wouldn’t consider the danger of intellectual wickedness, not for any other reason, but because they would not admit they don’t understand the contents and thus, categorally, would definitely refuse the importance of such a fact. So what. No groupment, no contact, no communication, no money. Where the danger? That’s a soldier’s mind as they haven’t to deal with 68 revolution organizing intellectual. If it were them, they’d put into prison whole tons of those in university coffee sipping individuals undermining the soldier’s morals through invitations to peace making demonstrations (that do always end up in orgies – Baruwth argued in one of my stories), but certainly not someone who – that was the only story he understood – is heavily accusing a psychiatry gourou of having driven mad a soldier without punishment. There, something he’d really agree with in the depth, although he wouldn’t say too loudly. Just in case.

Now, even Baruwth can’t know that I met Maya in Cuenca, Ecuador, while she was travelling through South America, and this for two days only or perhaps three, and that the whole real link is that she sent a whole amount of pictures of the rest of her journey I enjoyed very much having a look at. No. It’s enough to talk about lipsticks as if a new conspiracy was going on in order to be suspected at once of being the head organizer of Maya’s meetings, exactly because she wrote a name on it. Head organizers never do. She’s israeli on top, which is to say, she’ll find more proper ground for sympathy and I’m a foreigner – who is always suspicious. It should work.

It may cause some inner division. I’m sure Sask is more suspicious than Baruwth, it’s simple psychology. For a man a woman is always less dangerous, a woman may know how dangerous she may be herself. A sympathy coming from Baruwth will make Sask necessarily angry. It’s like that.

I assure myself three more months without having to go on civil trial. So. That’s enough for today. I’ve promissed Maya we would be playing cards. I didn’t phone today, although I could. It’s just not to look too much interested. Tomorrow, perhaps. I don’t know what I’m going to feed Sask with, today. Probably some considerations on the freedom of speech and general frames. It’s that finally. Perhaps I don’t care very much about the fact whether she goes through all that stuff. I just have to put some order into my ideas.

Ah! I took a wonderful decision last night. I’m not going to save the world, definitely. But I have to get rid of some worries that had arosen due probably to my very peculiar psychological character and which were blinding me towards any other reality. I can’t solve it anyhow. It’s not that bad finally to have a few weaks to think about things. Even in a white prison.

Texts left in the computer


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