Nurith Zur, in today's Ma'ariv, wonders how it got to this (excerpted and translated from Hebrew by Noga):

The little man in Israel goes on making a hard living and braving destiny. All he wanted was to get away from it all, take a short vacation in Antalia (Turkey) and all of a sudden this war comes and keeps him here, with everyone else, all together in the unbearable heat of a cheerless bomb shelter, with whinging neighbours and ugly mice.

I go about my business, dejectedly, wearily. I don’t know what to feel, how, and why I am so sad. I find it hard to accept that there are those who hate us so boundlessly while the rest of the world stands off, unspeaking, letting them go on and on. Eventually, this cancer will digest the entire world, small Israel will never satisfy its ravenous appetite. How can they fail to perceive the danger?

I thought about the Fable of the Cave from my philosophy class. People in a semi-darkened cave, tied to chairs, can only gaze forward, to a wall in front of them. They can only see the shadows of things projected on that wall, yet they believe this is the only reality there is. They don’t bother to extricate themselves and venture out of the cave, see the world in broad daylight and understand what’s really going on.