IF YOU KNOW AN ARAB DON’T EVEN TRY ENTERING ISRAEL
‘Do you know any Arabs in London?’ Israeli airport authorities grill British photojournalist before kicking him out
“I don’t pretend to know night-time from day, but if I were your God I’d have something to say” (Ben Gurion Prison, 14th March 2013)
These words, scrawled inconspicuously on the wall just above my head amid a plethora of other graffiti, drew my eyes as I sat on a dirty, broken bunk in an Israeli ‘facility’.
Or at least that’s what the Israelis call it. In my lexicon, rows of cells with no door handles on the inside and double bars across the windows are found in a ‘prison’.
That’s where I found myself on 13th March, six hours after arriving at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion airport at the…
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