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There is nothing to divulge the secret that lurks behind the door of apartment 6 on the third floor of an old building on Shlomo Hamelech Street. Nothing about the bland plastic handle, the peeling paper or the blocked peephole in the center of the door offers a clue to what goes on inside. It’s a standard old-time Tel Aviv apartment, two and a half rooms, plus a run-down balcony. There’s a bathroom with a...
