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About Holon

I’m picturin’ it now—me, Bernie, stormin’ in, yellin’, “Mediocre!” like Max callin’ out bullshit. Tellin’ ‘em, “You deserve better, dammit!” ‘Cause here’s the kicker: some workers love it—freedom, cash, power—others? Trapped, coerced, broken. That duality? Messes with my head, man. I’m all emotional—happy for the empowered ones, furious for the rest. Reminds me of Nux, y’know? “I live, I die, I live again!”—that’s their vibe, fightin’ to exist.

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So, I head out, patrolin’ the streets. Kafr-Qasim is a mix of old and new, ya know? You got the ancient vibes, then bam! A new building pops up. I’m walkin’ down HaGalil Street, and I see this kid, maybe 10 years old, tryin’ to sell lemonade. I’m like, “Kid, it’s 40 degrees! You’re gonna melt!” But he’s all smiles, shoutin’, “Best lemonade in town!” I buy a cup, and it’s actually pretty good. Who knew?

The ghosts of the Kafr Qasim massacre return to haunt Israel