First, if you are lucky, there is a loud warning alert on your phone. Then the sirens scream from all around you. Within seconds, people move quickly but calmly: to a safe room, to a shelter, sometimes simply to the nearest underground car park. Some families sleep in public shelters, unsure whether they can reach safety from home in time, young children in tow.

In my case, the past few weeks have meant hours in a shared reinforced room with neighbours, time alongside strangers – and their calming dogs – in public shelters, and, fortunately, many nights sleeping in a safe room between sirens.

Each time you wait as the sound of interceptions echoes somewhere overhead. Sometimes the moments are more frightening: the thud of cluster munitions breaking apart in the sky, or the impact when they land, injuring or killing people within earshot.

For the past few weeks, this has been part of daily life in Tel Aviv as missiles launched by the Islamic Republic and Hezbollah target Israeli cities.

Most are intercepted. Some are not. Most tragically in Beit Shemesh, where nine people – including three children from the same family – were killed by a missile strike. Even when bombs are blocked, the experience leaves its mark: the sudden spike of adrenaline, the quiet messages sent afterwards to........

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