Blast from the Past


Today was a strange day.

A bomb went off at a bus stop where innocent people stood and waited for their next ride, drank a soda, or simply passed by from one point to the next. Tens of others could have been there at that moment but weren’t. Thousands turned their attention inward to the holy city. Millions watched on television waiting for an answer.

One story: a foreign worker decided to go to work at different hours instead of his usual schedule which would have coincided with the explosion. He was saved and wants to become a Jew!


This one was supposed to be there and that one was supposed to be there and all of the sudden everything shifted and they weren’t the ones.

Try working through it all.

I’m supposed to be thinking creatively and can’t stop jumping back online to check the latest reports. Luckily my job isn’t monotonous and I can adjust my tasks to fit my mood.

Then I’m on the way home late at night on the 74 bus after meeting with a friend and his father from out of town. An Arab man at the bus stop looks suspicious. Why? Because he’s Arab. That’s what it comes down to right now and I hate it but sit as far away from him as I can. The 74 is a long bus…Who knows if those are truly onions in his bag…

After a while I forget about him and notice something about the streets. Except for a teenager and his girl friend making noise sitting a few sets away the city is eerily quiet, the passengers quietly still.

Rain falls and the route takes me past the scene of the attack but from the opposite side of the street; its a wide street.

It’s dark outside yet I can make out some police tape used to cordon off a small area. People walk back and forth like they always do; buses make their stops.

Victims fight for their lives, perpetrators are on the run, the world goes on. The allies are bombing Libya and I will go to sleep and wake up to a new reality, a blast from the past.



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