It's the first Friday of Ramadan, 28 August 2009. I'm walking on street patrol to the Ibrahimi Mosque in the Old City of Hebron, squeezed between hundreds of men, women, and children also making their way to the Mosque. For them, it's time to observe the daily formal Ramadan prayers. There's very little pushing, but also very little air. Everyone is shoulder to shoulder, front to back, almost one unit moving ahead-slowly, surely, like a turtle on its way to the sea.