Tonight in Vienna, Noam Bettan walks onto the Eurovision stage. He is twenty-eight years old. He will sing “Michelle,” a pop ballad about ending a toxic relationship, performed partly in French, a nod to his family’s roots. Before he steps out, he will have gone through a security briefing run jointly by the Shin Bet, the Mossad, and Austrian elite police units. He will know that protesters have gathered outside the venue. He will know that part of the audience inside has come specifically to boo him. Above him, on banners across the venue and on the screens that will frame his performance, the contest’s official slogan will read: United by Music.

He has trained, like every Eurovision contestant, on his vocals. On the harmonies. On the choreography. On the dozens of details that make a three minute performance look effortless. He is a professional, and he has put in the hours. But unlike every other contestant this year, he has also trained on something else: how to stand on a stage while part of the audience tries to drown him out. How to breathe when the booing begins. Whether to close his eyes or fix on a single point on the back wall. Which expressions to allow himself. Which to suppress. How not to cry. If he does cry, what kind of makeup will hold. He said so himself, in an interview before leaving for........

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