When I was 16 years old, I visited Hebron, a city of about 2 million in the occupied West Bank.
I was on a visit to a casino in the center of town and it was a magical experience.
I bought my first bill of goods, bought some games and then spent a night with a real-life lion, a woman and a baby.
It was one of the most amazing nights I’ve ever had.
But the night of the show was not the only time I had a chance to experience the majesty of the Hebron casinos.
For a short while, I spent a few nights at the Mahal, a small, four-room villa at the foot of the hill overlooking the hilltop, in the Palestinian town of Beit She’an.
I’d been invited to the villa by a friend who worked for the casino’s owner, Mohammed Alsad.
A few days later, we had dinner at a local restaurant.
After that, we went to the casino and played several games of blackjack and roulette.
When I was 15 years old and my family were going through divorce proceedings, my father was trying to arrange a divorce from his wife, who was a former employee at the casino.
When he asked her to come to the house to check out his son, the daughter said she was afraid of him, and she refused to come back.
She told my father she had a friend from college and they were planning to visit Jerusalem, so she and my mother had gone with them.
We got to the hotel where they stayed and I saw my mother with the girl I’d been with in college.
I told my mother that I’d have to talk to her mother about the situation and she told me to go.
My mother went and sat at the table next to me, looking at me.
I couldn’t believe it.
She was my mother.
When I got to her, she said, “Look, my mom is going to talk about this to you.”
I was so shocked and I started crying.
I didn’t know what to say, but I just kept going with it.
When my mother and I talked, I didn’t want to let my mother down.
She said, I am so proud of you, and I am not going to let you down.
I told her, I love you.
And I told my dad that I loved him too, and that he loved me too.
My father’s face was so white and so hard, I was afraid he would see something like that, too.
I don’t think he saw it.
I think he was trying so hard to comfort me.
We went home and I cried for the first time in years.
The following year, my family moved to Jerusalem.
My dad stayed at my mother’s apartment.
I lived with my grandparents and aunts, and my mom lived with the family from where I was born.
At some point, we were offered the chance to stay at the villas.
When the casino owner came to us to offer us a house, we told him we wanted to stay in Hebron.
We didn’t realize how many people were staying there.
We had no idea what was going on.
At one point, the casino manager came and said, You are going to live in a villa.
I said, OK.
But the manager came up to us and said that we were staying at the hotel.
When we asked him what we could do, he said, It is not for us to do anything.
We could go to the hospital, but we were not allowed to go outside.
We weren’t allowed to walk anywhere.
We were told to stay with my mother in the villamates.
When it was time for us, I got in the car and went out to the car park.
I went to a place where I could find a room.
The next morning, my parents were in the hotel and told me that we had to go back to the police station.
I got up and walked into the police office.
My parents were scared, but they told me, You know, we have to go through the process.
The police officer was so angry that he yelled at my parents.
When they got out of the car, they said to me and my father, You have to tell them, We are staying here and they will send us to the prison.
We told them that we could not do it.
My friends told us that they were going to leave Hebron that day.
I went to prison for about three months.
I had to sit in a cell for three months, and every time I was hungry, I would come to see my mother, who would make me a bowl of rice with milk and water.
When one of my friends was imprisoned, she sent me a box of sweets, and the next day I was in the cell again