As a resident of Lod, the conflict between my mission as a journalist and my desire to live in peace in my own city, generated an impossible dissonance I t was one of those moments when your life flashes rapidly before your eyes. It was late at night. From early evening, Lod’s Arab residents had been protesting in the Ramat Eshkol neighborhood and in the city center. We couldn’t hear their shouting in the neighborhood where I live, and I figured — I don’t know what I based this on — that I could drive a short distance of 5 to 7 minutes away. In a matter of minutes, I realized my mistake. Near the District Court, a group of young Arab men were holding rocks and sticks, waiting for a car with a Jew inside. I sped past them.