An installation depicting US president Donald Trump and Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu on the beach outside the US embassy branch office in Tel Aviv this week. Photograph: Jack Guez/AFP/Getty
I often imagine what it might be like to go back in time and walk the streets of places like the American Deep South of the 1950s or Berlin of the late 1930s, to sit in diners or coffee shops and eavesdrop on conversations – not to judge, but to observe people blithely going about their daily lives as the most monstrous human suffering is happening just out of sight. And maybe to ask how they feel about it.
I can do that now. As I’ve written before, I live in Tel Aviv. I am raising two young daughters in a state that is committing genocide 70km from our home.
The recent UN-backed IPC report on humanitarian crises was stark.
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