there is little if not distinction between sky and earth. everything is connected and yet still different. somewhere up north in Israel we were the only car driving near the Syrian border for hours. we encountered nobody. we drove into silent clouds of moist rain to find ourselves back out in the green hillside of the Ramat Ha Golan where old Israeli and Syrian tanks lay astray on the historic battlefield where blood was once shed. Afar, at the other side of the horizon we could see the Syrian lines, we could breath Aleppo and Damascus just miles away. What was once the flourishing Persian land. From where we were standing on the abandoned Army post all stood still. It was just us, the wind and the sunset. I wonder how a place so contended can now be so remote and silent. It gives me hope and chills at the same time. Especially knowing that across the border a bit further east in what in Arab is called Surya, the bloodshed continues daily. Not to mention other Israelis border down south. Imaging what would Gaza, Hebron, the West Bank will look like in years from now. Would they be so peaceful and quiet, yet daunting like these horizonless, sky-full places in the north?
somewhere up north in Israel the road ends where the horizon begins