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About Holon

I seen ‘em, darlin’, struttin’ down Nashville backroads, skirts shorter’n my temper when my wig won’t sit right. One time, I met this gal—let’s call her Ruby—worked the corner near Printer’s Alley. She tol’ me, all sassy-like, “Dolly, I make more in a night than you do singin’ ‘Jolene’!” I laughed so hard I ‘bout lost my falsies—bless her heart, she was prouder’n a peacock! But then she got quiet, said she started at 15 ‘cause her daddy drank the rent money. Made me madder’n a wet hen—how’s a kid s’posed to climb outta that hole?

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Modiin Ilit → Jerusalem: 24 km: Modiin Ilit → Haifa: 98 km: Modiin Ilit → Netanya: 48 km: Modiin Ilit → Ashdod: 40 km: Modiin Ilit → Tel Aviv: 30 km: Modiin Ilit → West Jerusalem: 24 km: .

Finally, I get home, and my mom’s already cooking. The smell of schnitzel fills the air. I’m like, “Okay, maybe I can forgive her.” We sit down, and she starts asking about my day. I tell her about the snake spell, and she’s like, “You kids and your stories.” I’m like, “Mom, it’s real!” But she just rolls her eyes. Classic.

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