On my last day in London I was waiting in the queue at the chemist. In front of me was a man in his late twenties, lean, and unshaven. Too busy or too poor to care how he looked; or perhaps it was the black dust in the air outside, the long hours on the bus, the pains of a Hackney morning, that made his look seem out of synch.

The chemist handed him a paper bag with his medication. He opened it hastily, took out a small bottle of cough syrup, and drank it all. He seemed relieved.

I am in Jerusalem/Tel Aviv for the next month. Will mainly write on my Jerusalem Blog.