Artists shout in the streets. They manage to gather an audience in the capital, on Balfour St., and combine carnival and protest. "Revolution, democracy!" They shout, and so do we. But deep within our hearts we hesitate in embarrassment - "Is this Jerusalem Syndrome?" Either way, if we are doomed to get stuck here, we need to dive deeper into the Dionysian MUSEum, thus our convoy was led by the official Minister of the Banquet: party-line Kok Schok TLV. Together, we sought meaning in this place. We started at the "new club" on Balfour st., as the youth called it, dressed in white and hoping to catch the Syndrome. But something isn't right, after all, if something needs to be shouted it ought to be: "Extinction Rebellion!"

We were determined to enter the messianic gesture of the Eretz Israel MUSEum, that something of our soul would remain after the body is gone. Therefore, we decide to return to Tel Aviv. There in the city of sins we dare to ask each other in despair: "Is it in fact extinction rebellion, or rather rebellion (itself) extinct?” Quickly and naturally, we dive into the depths of the syndrome, so we might succeed in realizing the Museu-cracy, and exist between the olive trees and the stars.