In the house of Mr. Nadim is hanging on the wall above the lintel overlooking the entrance hall, a wooden frame decorated by hand. Collects a large iron key, oxidized by time. Nadim casts an eye on that key every time and it opens the door to an evil never closed and never forgotten. Nadim was among the first to arrive at the refugee camp Jalason in 1948.
lived in a village near Haifa, then, was only 8 years but the images of his memories are still sharp as if it had happened yesterday. The military's ultimatum, his mother in tears, his father took him around to console him for his tears and he repeated that he believed the bolder, the whining just for a walk a bit 'longer than usual! He locked the house his father before leaving. He was worried, afraid that the soldiers did what they could not soak up putting in a few cases, not to mention the furniture and everything else. Soon they realized that they would not come back to the old house, including the signing of the armistice and not stayed that defeats piled rubble. The first time the camp slept under the trees next to a bonfire. Then came the curtains and the United Nations.
Jalason Today, fifty years later, is a small town self-sufficient and has raised new generations. However, there is in the eyes glistening with Nadim everyone at the camp, roads, walls, factories, shops and fields are just the veil behind which lies a hot tear Nadim bathes the heart of every evening when, before going to sleep, cast his eyes on the frame with the key. It 'weird. Usually you lose the keys, but some have lost the door and remained silent with a key in hand, looking for an old lock that no longer exists.
I have torn the roots have broken my house, was the land of my father and my grandfather before him, and before that of his father ... that is my life? Vivo waiting and dreaming of the return, but there's nowhere I can go. However, the fact of knowing does not help me, depresses me even more. We are a lost generation, a generation of ghosts. For our children who were born here is different, for them every day in the morning we leave our evil under the pillow, with his pajamas, it's just for them that we were and we built Jalason.
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