Midnight in Jerusalem. The streets are quiet, dark, deserted. Peek around corners, though, and noise leaks out, betraying celebration.
This, too, is Jerusalem. Queens and kings parading and singing and flirting, cracking crude jokes. Laughter (some of it nervous) all around. Boys in kippahs, kissing. Girls embracing, dancing with abandon.
The show is over. In the corner, she removes her wig, bra, corset, stockings, and heels, and slips on her army fatigues. Furiously, she scrubs her face, ridding it of its proud femininity. In the morning, he is a soldier again.
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