In the quiet that descends on Kibbutz Sdot Yam in the late morning, you can almost hear the waves of the sea breaking below the homes. A girl emerges from one of the row structures. In response to my question, she points to the corner apartment and says, rather indifferently, “That’s where Nola Chilton, the director, lives.” But I still have to work up the nerve to knock on the door.
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