Once upon a time in the shuk Levinsky
When I began dating my fiancee in small-town Florida, a “refugee” as he described himself, seeking shelter from the threat of war and rocket fire after the horrors of October 7th, it wasn’t long before he began to reveal to me the special details of his life back in Israel. “I live inside of a market,” he said, and my imagination began to reel. I typed the address into Google Maps and walked down the streets, as one does, through the eye of some trolling, futuristic camera mounted on top of a Toyota. Only after he asked me to come back with him did I begin to picture myself strolling through or stopping by this magical, mysterious market whenever the moment of necessity beckoned me. Two months later, and the magic of the Levinsky shuk —a several blocks-long stretch of restaurants, bars, and market stalls containing gourmet delicacies, plants, spices, nuts, grains, cheeses and oils—waxes superior to what I had conjured in my mind or viewed through my digital peephole, for it’s almost ...