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Pride
Dalia Rabikovitz
Even rocks break, I’m telling you
And not because of old age
For years they lay on their backs in the heat and the cold
So many years
There is almost an impression created of tranquillity
They do not move from their place and thus the cracks are hidden
A sort of pride
Many years pass over them in anticipation
Whoever is going to break them
Has still not come
And then the hyssop flourishes, the seaweed gets excited and the sea leaves them and returns
And again, they do not move
Until a small sea lion comes to rub against the rocks
He will come and go
And suddenly the stone is injured
I told you, when rocks break it happens suddenly
And thus people too

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