About two weeks ago, I was out and about in London with my daughter. One day we came to Covent Garden, a lively place full of people, music and street performers. We stopped to watch one of the performances and, like many others, were swept up in the carefree, cheerful atmosphere. During the performance, the artist asked a little girl from the audience to join him on stage. She played along, the audience was entertained, and in the end everyone applauded. The artist also clapped for the girl and then asked her with a smile: “Where are you from?”
The girl was silent. He presumably thought she hadn’t understood the question and repeated it once more, this time more clearly. But the girl remained silent. Finally, he turned to her parents, who were standing among the spectators, and asked them too where they were from. They also remained silent. Then the girl’s older sister turned around and murmured something in Hebrew. We were standing directly behind them, heard them, and immediately understood: they were Israelis. An Israeli family that had...
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