I was riding a rented scooter on Eliat Street, few blocks from the Telavivian Gallery, glancing at the lifeless store windows. I wasn’t wearing a helmet and the dry wind whipped across my face. The lane was free, with no traffic. It felt like Sunday morning. The last time I checked the calendar, it was still Thursday. Without pedestrians or sellers, the street looked like a desert. Maybe because we were in the desert. That gathering of concrete and glass, with some sparse trees and few parked cars, was a mere facade. The arid and lonely atmosphere struck me, but the idea of shortly reaching the Jaffa seashore brought me some relief.
Does the Earth???s atmosphere bend as it moves around the Sun?
Such questions are regularly posed to us, and all of them are based on the same misconception: for a body to move, a continuous…