You poor, suffering heroes, you miserable messiahs of the Jews, you tame-souled tamers of the wilderness, you crazy saviors of Israel, you fucking maniacs, you tyrants with diarrhea of the mouth! Your souls are seared into me like a branding iron, but I am not one of you. You gave me everything and took back twice as much, like loan sharks. Call me no good. Call me a traitor. Call me a deserter. Whatever you call me must be true because you’ve tamed the truth as you tamed the wilderness. It, too, eats right out of your hands. May you suffer no more, my good people, my monsters of redemption. Just let me clear the hell out of here in peace. Don’t try to restrain me. Don’t haunt me to the ends of the earth like avenging angels. What’s it to you if there’s one less scumbag around here, one less filthy stain on your snow-white honor. From your loving son who can’t go on any more, farewell.

Yonatan.

Who’s there. What’s going on.

It’s your father. Come over here at once!

What do you want.

Come here, I said. You look a sight. That’s the latest thing, I suppose. May I ask where you’re bound?

Outward.

What’s the latest?

It’s of a personal nature.

Eh?

Of a personal nature. Something strictly private.

Meaning?

That I’m hitting the road.

Well, good morning, my genius. I take it we’re not good enough for you here.

Father. Hear me out for once. Everything here is just fine. I have no complaints. Hats off to all of you. You’re the glory of the human race. You built this land out of nothing with your bare hands and saved the Jewish people in the bargain. Agreed. It’s just that I—

You? You’ll kindly shut up and get back to work. What, may I ask, will become of us if every mixed-up young fellow around here decides to take off whenever he feels like it?