ROI, the young duty manager at Tel Aviv's Apropos Cafe, saw the bomber enter the coffee shop's shady courtyard, writes David Horovitz from Jerusalem. "He put down his bags, sat down, and then, the BOOM. He blew himself up."
A few minutes after the blast, crying and almost incoherent, Roi was led back to the courtyard by the police. Most of the injured and the dead had already been evacuated, but one body still lay there on the ground. There was nothing left of the face for him to identify, but yes, Roi confirmed, the clothes were those of the man he had seen.
On Thursday, in Tel Aviv, a memorial ceremony was held for the victims of the suicide bombing, almost exactly a year ago, outside the Dizengoff Centre shopping arcade.
Yesterday, just around the corner from last year's blast, the bombers struck again - savagely ending 12 months that had been mercifully free of the sight of blood and guts and amputated limbs strewn across Israeli pavements.
This weekend marks the Jewish festival of Purim, primarily a children's holiday. Kids dress up. Kindergartens and schools hold parties. Early yesterday afternoon in Tel Aviv, in warm sunshine, the festive atmosphere was at its height. The cafes were packed, and Apropos was no exception. In the shade of the palm trees and the sun umbrellas, families were eating their light lunches.
Dafne Alon, sitting near the edge of the courtyard, also noticed the bomber come in. "He chose a table at the centre, the `best spot'," she said grimly, speaking later from her hospital bed, after being treated for her injuries. "He looked weird, sitting there alone, wearing a winter coat on a summery day."
The bomb blasted the cafe's wooden furniture into matchsticks, shattered plate glass windows, sent tables flying, set off car alarms.
Then came the wailing of those hurt. And then the sirens. One eyewitness spoke of rescuing one woman with an ear missing, and another with burns all over her face. A blond baby, in a blue and red romper suit, was handed to a policewoman, who began frantically trying to find the parents.
The gruesome work of collecting body parts for burial, of cleaning up the blood, continued all afternoon. And, as they did a year ago, the demonstrators quickly gathered, to display to the international TV crews their hurriedly drawn placards, bearing messages like "This peace is killing us" and: "This isn't peace, it's terrorism."
David Horovitz is managing editor of the Jerusalem Report