Herbs, Eggs, a Siren
First breakfast in Tel Aviv.
Here for a π³οΈβπ wedding, family, and maybe a few new beginnings.
Herbs, eggs, coffee.
No music. No narration. Just (mostly) quiet sound.
I cooked simple food and cleaned as I went, a ritual I picked up from my dad on job sites. π·π»π οΈ
I think a lot about him when Iβm here. The people, the food, the musicβ¦it all reminds me of the best parts of him.
At 11 am, the air sirens sounded for Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day).
Everything paused.
This was the quiet before that moment. π