We have found solace (from the pergatory of the inevitable obstacle and the agony of separation!!!) at Ibrahim's peace-house. It towers along with the other white stone terraced house/apartments along the edge of the Mt of Olives. We have the luxurius privacy a newly plastered white room on the roof (seems luxurious in relation to the last week when we slept on rooftops with scores of other travellers). We have one window that is a portal into the exotic - like we were eagles soaring over the rolling judean hills, rolling off into the Jordan. The sunset bathed the extraordinary view in a dusky pink, with the nearby call of the muezzin, the scenario seemed like the music of sunrise in that very bad movie about angels and falling, and the cost and blessing of being human. A hard day, an extraordinary day... and finally a house of peace.
... and I would take you into my mother's house, into the chamber of the one who conceived me, there I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of the pomegranate...
C. says we have finally met the King of Salem (the ever apparent Melchizedek).
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