No man’s land is the distance between the kid from the hood and the glass ceiling.

No man’s land was the area of mine field separating the neighborhood houses from Jordan.

No man’s land is the three days a drug addict who has just been released from a rehab center has to wait until her scheduled appointment with a social worker.

No man’s land is the route a child from the south part of the city travels to their high school

in the north part of the city.

No man’s land is the state’s attitude towards elderly Holocaust survivors from European

countries.

No man’s land is the government’s disregard for the issue of Holocaust survivors of Middle

Eastern heritage that does not even exist in the Israeli narrative.

No man’s land is the sick body of the boy Michael,1 who cannot get treatment because the

drug is not part of the government health care basket.

No man’s land is the anesthetizing properties of reality shows that weaken the ability of

an entire nation to protest.

No man’s land is the act of staring at those small screens that dull all human contact.

The child in me today no longer represses things but fights for the right to change.