municipal buildings

fic; the rain peasants

standalone; pg-13; fluff; msr ust; missing scene/one bed for the rain king; Mulder and Scully discuss what it’d be like to control the weather.

A/N: My one bed fic! I Can’t Believe It’s Not PWP


“Do you mind the T.V.? I can turn it off.”

“No, I don’t mind. Just keep the volume low, please.”

“You got it.”

Whatever is playing, it’s benign, popular and impersonal – funny, aluminum isn’t his style. Maybe it’s for her benefit? Can’t really share a bed with your coworker and take the edge off with pornography, can you. But maybe Mulder likes sit-coms. Maybe he needs to be told when to laugh. His sense of humor is… growing on her. After six years. But who doesn’t need a little help now and then? Oh, christ. That’s pathetic. He huffs out a laugh beside her, perfectly in time with the tin-can-track, and she knows that at least she isn’t alone. 

“Mulder?” she asks quietly. He goes completely still, and it’s obvious why – there you go again, Scully, getting me alone in cramped quarters and asking me obscenely difficult questions. She does like catching him off guard. There’s something in the way he looks at her when she goes a little nuts – like an x-file, like a mind-melting, course-of-history-changing x-file, and there is something in being that adored. And feared. She enjoys the fear just as much.

However, this is different. This case bothers her, and it ain’t got nothing to do with hicks or being confused for Mulder’s little wife.

“What’s up, Mrs. Mulder?” Tight and nervous. Scully smiles into her pillow. He’s so rarely nervous.

“I’ve been thinking about the case.” 

“It’s about time you took your work seriously.”

“Shut up, Mulder.” She gives him a moment to stop the next asinine comment before it arrives and he manages, just barely. “Let’s say, for the sake of conversation, it is possible for one man to dictate the state of the atmosphere in his little corner of the world.” 

“Okay, Scully. I’ll say that.”

“What if it were you?” she asks. There’s no missing the sincerity in her voice. Mulder may deflect – maybe he’ll make a joke, make some kind of pass, make some kind of obscure reference to a man who really did control the weather, hundreds of years ago, a man who swapped rain for mead and sleet for wool – but it won’t be without guilt. She’s okay with letting him make that choice. “What would the weather be like if your emotions were controlling it?”

A beat passes: he’s considering. The bed sharing makes it more dangerous, but regardless of his response they will wake up spooning in the morning. That’s the way it always happens, and he always freaks out more than her. Had he offered to take the floor this time, though? No. Every other time, yes. But not tonight. 

“Right now?” he asks lowly. “Right now, or in general?”

He’s taking her seriously. It smarts that she’s so pleased. 

“Right now, first,” she decides. She needs to know how much he’s willing to share before she goes all in. 

“Right now… it’d be raining pizza,” he snickers to himself, and Scully loses a sliver of confidence in the both of them. 

“Well,” she replies easily, masking the hurt with her own brand of indifference. “I told you to eat before we got back to the court.” 

“We’ve evolved to stay up past eight p.m., Scully. Nocturnal, diurnal, it all means nothing in our little corner of the world. You forget people live like this.” Silence. “Scully?” She doesn’t reply. 

She’s putting all of her effort into finding some semblance of sleep – you purposefully withheld information from me about this case and now I’m going to have to defend it’s necessity to Kersh without mentioning you actually fucking believe people can make it rain with their mind – when his hand covers her shoulder, a cautious, piddling touch. They really are different in bed. He snatches it back like he’s been burned, but then he replaces it with purpose. 

“I’ll tell you both, Scully.” He tugs on her shoulder when she doesn’t respond. “Roll over. C’mon, Scully.” 

She’s pissed that he’s now somehow made this all seem like his idea, like he’s the one taking the leaps. She rolls over just to glare at him and his face melts into a soft smile at her withering look. 

“I sure am glad you’re not in control of the weather right now.” He pets her nose and lets his body relax in a position mirroring hers, while she fights the urge to bite him. They’re both slightly uncomfortable with the situation, noticeably so, and their hunched backs make them look like parentheses. 

“I’m not sure the cattle industry could take such a devastating financial hit,” she says caustically. His smile widens. It’s sleepy in the light of the television, and easy. Another rare version of Mulder. Sleepy and easy are never words she’d typically use to describe him. 

“Go on, then.” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly lying about the pizza. I’m starving. I have tears in my eyes.”

“I have some granola bars,” she offers kindly. A shadow falls over his face. 

“The ones with the flax seeds? God, no.” Relaxing again, his voice turns contemplative, both dreamy and a little dismal.  “But in general? I can’t really tell you, Scully. I’d assume it’d be very much like the rest of me.”


“You could say that,” he says dryly, looking away from her. A moment of silence, then: “Sometimes I could probably upend whole towns.”

I don’t think you have it in you, Scully thinks. Her face remains impassive when he grows theatrical, too loud and too convinced of his own hilarity in the middle of the night. 

“I could lift roads from the ground, Scully. Municipal buildings would crumble – I’d have to work up to the state legislature. There would be ice, there would be rain …” he pauses. “Maybe not fire.”

Gently, “Because of your fear?”

“No, not that.” He shakes his head. “I’m just not very good at rebuilding from scratch.” Perhaps that was too personal, because he flippantly amends: “But who among us is? I don’t think we’re made for it.”

People create life every day – they have babies, build houses, tear down governments, hoist them back up. It’s a never-ending cycle of starting anew; controlled burns are a way of life. But Scully recognizes that might be too literal an answer to what he’s suggesting.

He shoots a look at her, but she’s shifted on her back to stare at the television. The middle-aged white male lead is drinking a beer.

“But who knows how long that would last? Years, maybe minutes.” He turns and watches with her. A woman yells at her husband. Ha!Ha!Ha!

He continues while watching. “I guess that’s the frightening part. Most of us can just feel without inserting too much meaning into it all. But Holman Hardt spends each day in a hellish atmospheric vacuum of his own creation, cowering under the force of his own fragile emotional state.” 

“While other people are suffering,” Scully adds. “And he can’t do a thing to stop it.” 

Mulder lets out an amused rush of air. “We should become motivational life coaches. I’m feeling the power.” 

“You aren’t like that all the time,” Scully says, a little fiercely. He’s okay sometimes. He doesn’t hurt all the time. “You’re not always so… tumultuous. You’re fine right now.” 

They both turn to look at each other. “No,” he says. “I’m not like that all the time.” 

She’s quiet. He prods, “Okay, Scully, spill. What about you?”

“Right now, or in general?”

He repeats her words back to her. “Right now, first.” 

“I’m not sure my answers would be all that different,” she admits. This is what scares her. It’s not possible for one man to control the weather – and how very lucky they are that this is so – but if it were her… “Right now, or in general.” 

What little impact she’d have on the world. The realization depresses the hell out of her. What Mulder described: heart shaped ice cubes? Rose petals? Cows catapulting through court windows? Men cannot control the weather – human bodies cannot even withstand certain atmospheric pressures, let alone bend them to their will – but… where’s her creativity? When did she start feeling this way: not at all?

“That… does not seem right,” Mulder says. He’s itching to prove her wrong already.

“There have been some–” Scully pauses to choose her words carefully. “Difficult. There have been some difficult moments in the last few years of my life.” Mulder snorts derisively, more at himself than at her. “In all of the years of my life, Mulder, just like anyone else.” 

She wonders what he imagines her like, dictating the weather with her moods. There are probably more cows. What kind of storm encapsulates the strength of her eye rolling? Damn, is it easy to make herself annoyed with Mulder when she tries. How could you think of me like that?

“What would it be like?” he asks softly, eyeing her with genuine interest. She’s almost embarrassed to tell him. In the face of Fox Mulder’s lifelong battle against emotional terrorism, she feels positively virginal. She stares at his nose pressed into his inner elbow. 

“It would be pleasant,” she says to it. She doesn’t feel the need for elaboration, but his lips twitch. 

“You always this good at small talk? How about this weather we’re having.” His joke is teasingly sweet. It’s different from before, somehow. 

“It’d be pleasant because I don’t think I could let it be anything else.” 

They’re quiet for a bit. Neither of them know what the weather’s like outside. It’s chilly in their room, in the way all motel rooms are chilly. 

“If anyone had the ability to control the weather, Scully,” he says to the television, “and I mean really, really control it, so that humanity would be better off for having it… it’d be you.”

In the bed in the dark in the light of the T.V. in the hick town where everyone sleeps at eight p.m. where it hasn’t rained in forever where no one has luck in love, Mulder moves a little closer to her. So that their shoulders touch, so that their backs are ramrod straight, so that Scully’s assertion at not being nervous about this becomes a bold-faced lie. 

How To Keep Cool: a guide for hapless northeners who are unfamiliar with heatwaves and are stuck in a city built for cold


Basic stuff: Take a lot of showers, wash your face a lot, use compresses if necessary. This is how you take care of your babies and your elderly, please don’t let them get parched.

Do NOT open your windows around noon, heat will come in. Always keep windows and blinds closed if there’s direct sunlight. Open your windows only when the temperature drops, generally in the afternoon, though it also depends on location, and shade from nearby buildings etc. Exception: if you have open windows, even slightly open, on both sides of the house, it will create an air flow, which is fantastic. You want that. The above also applies to balcony doors, if there are any.

Flats on the top floor collect heat, and there’s nothing you can do about that. If you have a choice, move towards the ground floor.

If you can buy a fan, do buy a fan. If you can buy a fan and know someone who can’t, buy a fan for them. Construct a fan, steal a fan, somehow acquire a fan. I’d get into detail about best types of fans, but I suspect you don’t have many options.

Try nudism. (This doubles as life advice.)


Avoid direct sunlight, and avoid surfaces/locations that were recently exposed to direct sunlight. Concrete emits heat long after the sun has gone away. Stay in the shade as much as you can. Look for “heavy” shade, like from a building, not from just a tent or a glass pane. It’s better to walk four miles in the shade rather than one mile in the sun. (Indicative numbers obviously, don’t quote me on them, it’s the principle that matters.)

Wear a hat and sunscreen. Wear white or light-coloured clothes, this isn’t the time to express your goth side. Travel as light as possible, don’t carry heavy stuff you don’t need. If you feel tired, you can take a moment and rest, drink some water, cool off. If you feel dizzy, immediately stop and rest.

Do you have access to parks with trees? You might be able to chill there - literally. Even in a small area, a dense canopy drops temperature by a couple of degrees, and gives excellent shade. If your house is too hot in the day, maybe you can crash on a bench beneath a tree. But give priority to the elderly.

Are there any air-conditioned buildings in the city? With chairs? Like banks, big stores, municipal buildings, something? If yes, this is where you put your most vulnerable people when the heat is worse. I don’t care if it disrupts business, this is an emergency. If it’s a public building it should open its gates, if it’s not, barge in and dare security to kick grandpa out in the heat.


1. Drink lots and lots of cold water. If you’re not used to having bottles of water in the fridge, now is the time. Glass bottles are preferable. Prepare ice cubes, too.

Hack for the hard times: At home or at work, get two plastic bottles, fill them ~¾ with water, and freeze them. Then take one out (it’s a bottle of ice now) and fill it with tap-water. The ice will melt slow enough to keep the water cold for a long time - long enough for a second bottle to freeze, as it happens. At any time, you should have one bottle of ice-cold water next to you, and one bottle of solid ice in the freezer. When you empty the first one, swap.

If you’re going outdoors, take one such bottle with you. Of course, if you can buy cold water from a store, or ask to be served a glass or something, please do that. [Every time I go abroad north and/or west, I get flabbergasted at how hard it is to get a drink of water when walking about.]

2. Fruit juices are fine, provided they’re fresh and cold.

3. No sodas. Don’t drink anything with sugar (or sugar-simulating additives), no matter how enticing it seems. It will make you feel better for a minute, then make it worse. Only resort to sodas if there’s nothing else to drink. Ask for ice cubes, at least.

4. No alcohol while it’s hot, especially hard liquor. Wait for the sun to set. That said, if you’ve found a cool place to sit in the shade until the noon heat passes, an ice cold beer would be brilliant. Not recommended, per se, but brilliant. Drink quickly or it will turn to piss.

5. There are some cases where hot tea helps tremendously, but in small quantities (not a whole cup, think the classic Turkish glass or the thumbnail-sized shot glass of the Bedouins) and in specific circumstances (basically if you’re outdoors and bathing in sweat). But you best avoid it if you don’t know what you’re doing. Do NOT go drinking buckets of hot tea (or hot coffee) willy-nilly.


Don’t leave your electronics in the sun, turn off your laptop/desktop from time to time and let it cool (especially if it’s lagging), and make sure the fans work and are set at performance priority (check your BIOS, this is not the time to prioritise quiet). DO NOT OVERCLOCK JUST NOW. Removing the desktop’s lid will also help a tiny bit. Oh, and now would be a good time to remove all the dust from your CPU. When did you clean it last? Thought so. :P


For most of you, the heatwave will make you feel discomfort and fatigue, and that’s it. You’ll be okay. It’s fine. But some are way more vulnerable. Babies, old people, and anyone with heart problems or sensitive lungs, should take priority. Keep them as cool, hydrated, and comfortable as you can, and don’t let them get tired.

Take care of your dogs. NEVER leave them without water. Also, they need air flow a lot more than you, so they’ll be better off in a park. Don’t tire them needlessly, though, just get them there and let them crash. Not that it’s particularly feasible in the city, but just so you know, the best place for a dog during a heatwave is wallowing in mud in the shade. Wet earth or grass would do fine. At home, you can delight them with ice cubes. A haircut may be refreshing, but it won’t do for all dogs (I think double-coated dogs should not be shaved, consult a vet to make sure.)

Your cats need water like everyone else, and can otherwise take care of themselves just fine. They’re cats, they know what to do.

tl, dr; Seek cold water, air, and shade. Good luck!

P.S. I dedicate this guide to the first Englishman I met in my life, when I was five and we were taking a summer roadtrip with my parents somewhere in the deep south of the Peloponnese. And there he was, hiking in the middle of nowhere, a classic case of “mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun”, a heatstroke waiting to happen. And he wasn’t hitchhiking, he meant to keep walking uphill for miles, saddled with gear, in 42 degrees Celsius and no shade. We had to insist to give him a lift.

He was incredibly (I thought) tall and lanky, almost too tall to fit in the beetle, he had striking (I thought) red hair and beard, and his skin was all red from the sun except in places that were unnaturally (I thought) porcelain-white. He basically looked like a giant lobster. A very shy, polite, and awkwardly grateful giant lobster. :)

Here’s to you, traveller. I hope you still travel, after all these years. May the road ever bring you joy.

anonymous asked:

Mayor Elorza- what steps do you take to make sure that your city is LGBTQ inclusive?

Soon after taking office, I appointed an LGBTQ Liaison, designated all-gender restrooms in municipal buildings, and updated our City’s health care policy to be more inclusive of transgender and gender non-conforming employees and retirees. I’ve raised the Pride flag and the Transgender Pride Flag at City Hall each year. And I’ve stood up when states like North Carolina and Mississippi have passed legislation that harms LGBTQ people. I try to prioritize equity in everything I do and ensure that City Hall is as responsive as possible to the concerns and priorities of the community.


I’ve always loved the​ Cottonwood Hills world by @martinessimblr, and the gorgeous builds she has done for them. Unfortunately, Martine has not been able to continue support or answer WCIFs herself for quite some time, while at the same time, I know a lot of people (including myself) would probably like to have a comprehensive list to refer to, rather than do the sleuthing themselves or comb through all the disparate WCIF posts on her main blog.

So, with Martine’s generous permission, I’ve taken it upon myself to assemble comprehensive WCIFs for her Cottonwood Hills buildings, or as many of them as I can manage, anyway, and post the results on my simblr.

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This is...

a/n: Because CharacterDevelopmentforChloe2015 and @unluckyfortunes convinced me that shutterbug should be a thing. ALSO @miraculousturtle THERE IS NO ANGST HERE. HAHAHAHA…implied Ladynoir

This is who she discovers.

When the claim of “friend for the longest time” is used as collateral, Adrien smiles and spills the truth.

After all, there’s not much he can deny when she’s seen him transform…by accident, by chance, by design…it doesn’t matter.

Just let it be known that Chloe cares and she knows.

“I…I…Adrien…you’re…Chat Noir.”

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” He answers with a Cheshire Cat grin, spreads his arms wide as if to say “ta da! Surprise!”.

But he waits with a trepidation so crippling, that his jaw remains stiff and his smile does not quite reach his eyes.

Those pretty greens that remind of her river water dappled by sunlight…green like envy and all those terrible things she felt when others came between them…

Things not as terrible as the betrayal she feels welling up in her throat, threatening to rip out screams all the way from the tips of her well manicured toes.

Instead she cries.

Her eye shadow is smudged and her mascara runny by the time she’s gone clean through his tissue box and left half her face on the discarded ones littering his sleek bedroom floor.

She’s a blubbery mess by the time she makes it into his embrace and leaves the other half of her face on his white shirt.

“A-adrien, you’re so l-lame.” She laughs a little, because she should have known that his puns would have made their presence known eventually. They were remnants of a childhood spent buried in books and developing the strangest sense of humor.

Adrien is bewildered. But the hug he gets reminds him that Chloe cares and that she is his oldest friend.

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Here's how you can help the Montreal flood relief effort

Volunteers looking to pitch in and help out with the flood relief effort are being asked to head over to a number of local municipal buildings to fill and deliver sandbags.

Île-Bizard-Sainte−Geneviève is asking for volunteers at 406 Montée de l'Église Street Monday. Authorities there are asking that people wear warm clothes and that volunteers be aged 14 and up, since the work is physically demanding, and there are a lot of trucks and loaders driving around.

The municipalities of Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue, Senneville and Hudson have been overwhelmed by the response of volunteers and are no longer seeking people to help with flood relief.

In other parts of the West Island, citizens are coming together to lend a hand to the relief effort.

People in Vaudreuil are gathering at 2555 Dutrisac Street behind city hall as of 9 a.m. Monday to fill sandbags.

People are being asked to wear proper footwear such as work boots or steel-toed boots and bring gloves and rain gear with them.

Anyone with a pickup truck or truck with a trailer and a spare a few hours is being asked to help with delivering sandbags.

The Fairview shopping centre in Pointe-Claire has also set up a food drive where people can drop off and pick up any food supplies during the flood.

Seeking donations

The Red Cross has announced a fund to help people affected by the floods in Quebec, saying the needs will be “immense.”

The money will be used to help people once they return home to pay for things such as cleanup, rebuilding and replacing furniture.

The Quebec government has put half a million dollars into the fund, and Public Security Minister Martin Coiteux is asking Quebecers to be generous.

West Island Community Shares, a group that distributes funding towards 40 different non-profit groups in the West Island, will also be collecting money for flood victims.

On Monday, the group’s board of directors approved the set-up of a special fund.

“We will collect funds and transfer 100 per cent of the funds to specific groups working on the front lines to support flood victims, for example West Island Assistance Mission, West Island Mission, On Rock,” said Leanne Bayer, Executive Director of West Island Community Shares.


‘Improbable Libraries’ Beautifully Depicts The Fun Side Of Libraries

There’s just something about a library – its well-thumbed, plastic-sheathed bestsellers and dusty shelves of obscure treasures, all just waiting to be picked up and enjoyed by you. And then someone else, someone you may never meet. A library brings readers together into one space to share, exchange, and unlock the secrets of books. Oh, and it’s absolutely free to use.
Alex Johnson, a journalist for the U.K.’s Independent and the author ofImprobable Libraries, agrees. But he’s also noticed that libraries don’t just operate out of drab brick municipal buildings or aged edifices with Gothic arches.

See more of these improbable libraries here. 

The Spirits of Christmas

For the Klaine Advent challenge I’m combining the word prompt with the summary for a Hallmark or Lifetime holiday movie, for maximum cheesiness.

Day 2: Broadway + An out-of-work actor returns to his quaint hometown where he wonders if the life he once left behind could be even better than Broadway.

“Kurt Hummer?”

Kurt scurries out from backstage squinting under the stage lights. “It’s Hummel,” he says, helpfully, hopefully, to the casting directors sitting in the center of the theater. Behind his back, he crosses his fingers.

“Yeah, whatever. You can go.”

Cut. Again.

“Over a year, Rachel. An entire year of audition after audition and nothing.” Instead of celebrating the role that he thought was it, finally, a shoe-in, the part he was born to play—he’s throwing himself a pity-party, sprawled face down on the couch with a bottle of wine tucked close by.

“Plenty of people struggle to make it Kurt, why Ms. Barbra Streisand herself worked as an usher—”

“Please no more Barbra stories.” Kurt slugs back a gulp of wine, a little dribbling onto his chin.

“The point is,” Rachel huffs, “We’re here in New York City. Chasing our Broadway dreams. Living in our fabulous New York City apartment.”

Your fabulous New York City apartment,” Kurt points out. 

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Design Proposals for Minneapolis City Hall

“If I had a building to put up I would tell Fred Kees about what I wanted and ask him to make sketch plans until he suited me, and then when I was suited I would tell him to go ahead and superintend the building at the usual percentage to architects” Thus spoke John DeLaittre at one of the first meetings of the board when the matter of plans was under consideration. “But, of course,” he continued, “this is a public affair, and we could not do that. We will have to advertise for architect’s plans and go about the matter of selecting an architect in the regular way.”

Minneapolis Tribune, November 10, 1895

A detailed call for architects was published and numerous designs were submitted, as seen above. While other architects initially made it to the top, DeLaittre, chairman of the construction committee, got his way in the end–a Frederick Kees building (design by Long and Kees Architects pictured bottom right).

City Hall held its grand opening to the public on November 11, 1895, at which time only the county occupied its space in the building. City offices moved in seven years later, but construction was not officially completed until 1909.

The design proposals were published in the Supplement to the Northwestern Architect, Vol. IV, no. 4.

the Dark Swan

They finally upped the pace a bit. Hoo-frickin-yay, an episode that didn’t draaaag.

But the music is getting worse. It’s noisy, intrusive, and melodramatic. The music was especially crass in the final Dark Swan moments, pulling the rug out from under what I assume was meant to be ominous. It made me laugh instead.

Once’s Camelot is a ringer for the Playmobil castle I got my children for Christmas eight years ago; but with more turrets. (but not that many more turrets). Also, the “mail”, surcoats and banners of Camelot and its knights look like Playmobil plastic. Come to think of it, the entire knights cohort look rather like Playmobil plastic:

As for Excalibur…

straight out of the toy box.

btw, a real wavy edged sword is a flamberge - a two-handed Renaissance weapon - in case anyone’s trying to keep track of the quasi-Middle-Ages mish-mash.

The will-o-the-wisp gave me a teatime telly flashback. I was half hoping Evil Edna and Mavis Cruet would put in an appearance:

I’m fairly sure Zelena’s hand is also Hook’s. How nice for Thing to get a day out from under his glass:

Granny’s Flying Diner has survived a realm-crossing twister return ticket. That’s some serious theme park ride build quality and not to be sneezed at.

Speaking of sneezing - stony death sentence. Harsh but satisfying. Storybrooke’s own White Witch doesn’t need a wand to petrify the serfs.

now for the characters that can talk:

Regina: if “what happened is I’m not stupid” were “what happened is I’m the only one who’s not stupid”, we would have the past two seasons’ arcs summed up; and this season’s plot I guess.

Rumplestiltskin: “do it, do it, doooo it”, in essence.

Hook: “The only thing he did right is push Robin out of the way” - my 12-year-old’s verdict.

Zelena: cut her own hand off. Hardcore af. Running on fear and maternal instinct.

Henry: now a “I’m not a kid any more” kid.

Severe Nurse: had a line! (just). yesssss. Regina’s professional dominatrix speaks.

Charming: probably had lines but I can’t remember what.

Snow: is only mildly surprised that Regina has Emma’s baby blanket. hmm.

Merida: “I could’ve done without this Once complication tbh”

Granny: “My diner wtf!?” - makes a fair point. We don’t see Snow offering her apartment as twister transport, or Hook offering his ship (an actual vehicle built to take storm damage), or Regina offering any of Storybrooke’s municipal buildings whose insurance is covered by public taxes. No, let’s risk the peasant’s house (and our lives to its glass and matchwood).

Grumpy: “just because we’re recurring doesn’t mean we don’t want adventures and certain death… wait, Sneezy? You ok, brother?”

Emma: Punish…”

The only Gaza destruction photo we need to see

by @ZalmiU

Whilst the TV networks portray Gaza destruction photos in a continuous loop, I would like to add one of my own.

This is what remained of the Neve Dekalim Synagogue, demolished along with a dozen other shuls, at the time of our Gaza pullout in 2005.

We did this awful thing and uprooted 8,000 Jews from beautiful homes and farms in order to give peace a chance.

We left the Arabs our greenhouses, our farmed land, municipal buildings and a lot more.

They stripped the concrete and steel from our synagogues to build rockets and terror tunnels.

They voted for Hamas which is the sole cause of their misery and destruction today.

In these days before Tisha B'Av we should weep for the synagogues and yeshivas that were destroyed for nothing.

Let us never do this again.