Someone fixes a leaky roof. Someone else finishes plastering his walls. A peddler walks around selling cheap honey-sweet pastry. Someone who was injured early on in the Intifada drives by in his car, waving at passersby who greet him and thank God for his speedy recovery. Two boys walk by arm-in arm.
Women hang the laundry out to dry and hose down the alleyways.
And every where, women and children climb up olive trees to shake the leaves and force the olives to fly down to the ground. It is olive picking season in Palestine. Bombing or no bombing, it is olive picking season in Palestine. Soon, we will dip our bread in fresh olive oil. Life goes on.