It was a torrid Saturday evening of June 1982, and I went to the book fair in the square, by the Town Hall. I saw T. there picking books about New Age subjects. She was always very attractive, but the tan and her new haircut made her look even better. In the months I didn´t see her, since March that year, when we both covered the withdrawal from Sinai, she broke with her lover, a top ranking officer in the Army, and became vegetarian. As we talked, it was clear that we will end that night in her apartment, two blocks from there. Then, in one stand we spotted a former MK and retired colonel, signing his book about slavery in colonial Haiti (!). He told us that the planned invasion to Lebanon was imminent. T´s passion for journalism was stronger than my best attempts to be romantic that night. I walked her to her flat, were she contacted her bureau in Europe and spent the next four hours on the phone arranging the coverage of the war about to start. I left around 3 a.m., quite disappointed. After that I met T. only once, a couple of weeks later. In September she left Israel to spend some days with her mother in England, and there she was killed in a stupid accident.