once upon a time there were the Wester Wall and the Alaqsa Mosque, two places so close to one another, yet so terribly faraway. two places where people studied and prayed just the same either sitting on chairs or under tree branches, yet so stubburned in their opposite views. two places of rituals and traditions. of sorrow and joy. two places where too much blood was shed already and little of the holiness that once was is kept untouched. yet also two place where a few rays of sun and a nice angle can make all the difference. and peace can be restored for few minutes out of the year. or maybe just the eyes of the outsider can see so.
