Sinatra's in Ramallah, Day I
A logistical nightmare. Forget about sleeping. Murphy flaunts his Law, bares his fangs, incredulous almost. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You've invited a Belgian rock band to play, and host children's music workshops? In Ramallah? The hills of Hebron? On the dark side of the moon?" I shrug, reluctant to humor the cynical legislator. "Who's your dope dealer? Man, I'm changing suppliers, that's all there is to it." Once more I shrug, cut short the inner dialogue. It's past midnight and a bunch of guys with side-burns and unusual-looking suitcases mosey past the glass waterfalls of Ben Gurion airport. Rumplestitchkin consists of Koen, Olivier, Wim, and Thomas. A manager and cameraman are along for the ride as well. |
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