1 Work in The Band's Visit - Yazbek/Moses
Haled leans against the hard wall of the rink. A cigarette hangs loosely from his mouth, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the smoke spiral up towards the sky. The lights and music from inside the rink pour through the open door, hints of pink and blue reflected on the cement, the bass from some song which Haled has never heard humming beneath the sound of his ears ringing. There is no wind in Beit Hatikva. Everything sits and waits.