Shlomi's residents have swapped their tree-lined town on the Israeli-Lebanese border for a luxury hotel in Jerusalem, overlooking the ramparts of the Old City. The wind blows in the trees against the hum of the air-conditioning. The rockets and threats of raids by Hezbollah, solidly entrenched in a thick maquis opposite their city, against the security.

Moshe Mozes vividly remembers the terror that gripped him on October 7. Seeing the Hamas attack, the worst massacre in Israel's history, which killed 1,200 people, he immediately imagined that Hezbollah might do the same in the north of the country, sending in its Radwan fighters, an elite, battle-hardened unit, to take advantage of the disorganization of the Israeli security forces. The man packed his bags and took shelter in Nahariya, the nearest, better-defended town. Then, on October 16, the authorities moved him, along with some 230 residents of Shlomi, and a few dozen from the village of Avivim, into an upmarket hotel in Jerusalem. In all, some 60,000 Israelis have been moved from the north of the country for security reasons.

A life in suspense then began, in a town to which this native of the north had only been twice in his life. He was mobilized by the army, which gave him the mission of protecting his small community, equipping him with fatigues and an assault rifle. "The people of Jerusalem gave us a warm welcome. The hotel has done everything to make us feel at home, but nothing can replace our home," he said.

"Every day, we get up and try to keep busy. Associations offer activities. But it's hard to replace the daily routine," Rita Ben Yair, the Shlomi residents' representative in the hotel, explained. She is 46, with three children, two of whom are in the army, and a sick husband. Week after week, month after month, she has seen those who could afford to rent an apartment leave. All that's left are those who have no other solution – 70 people at the end of September.

But boredom returns, except perhaps for these elderly women who are delighted to take part in activities organized by the town's associations. Today, it's honeypot decorating in the lobby. Another day, it's macramé. Some get by thanks to social benefits, others have found a little job, like Orly Bokris, Moshe Mozes' sister, who has set up a pastry-making workshop in her hotel room, transformed into a welcoming studio.

All TVs are tuned in to 14, a populist news channel that uses artificial intelligence to create anxiety-inducing videos. Like this Wednesday's, showing Yahya Sinwar, leader of Hamas and architect of the October 7, attack, still nowhere to be found, veiled and dressed as a woman in a market, bearing a Mephistophelean smile. As the war drags on, the channel is becoming increasingly popular in Israel.

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