Nova Kafr Qasim Brothel ❤️❤️

About Beersheba

Now, tie this shit to *Lost in Translation*—hell yeah, my fave flick! Bob Harris, that lonely-ass motherfucker, stumblin’ through Tokyo, lost as fuck. “The more you know who you are…”—that’s him, mumblin’ deep shit. Brothles got that vibe, man—people searchin’, tryna feel somethin’. Ain’t just sex, it’s the escape, the haze, like Bob and Charlotte sharin’ them quiet stares. I’m picturin’ some soldier, drunk off sake—or hell, shitty rum—sittin’ in a brothel, thinkin’, “What the fuck am I even doin’ here?” That’s the soul of it, motherfucker!

Background

First thing, I grab my coffee from that little joint on Yitzhak Rabin Street. You know the one? The barista, Rami, he’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s ramblin’ about his cousin who thinks he can beat the world record for eating falafel. I’m like, “Dude, focus on your coffee skills first!”

64th anniversary of Kafr Qasem massacre