First you notice there is water all over the paving stones. It doesn't make sense until you realise this was to wash away all the blood. When the bomb went off in downtown Jerusalem yesterday, it killed three people and injured 42 others, writes Deaglán de Breádún in Jerusalem
A bomb like this robs you of your life but also takes your dignity. You breathe your last on the public street and your life's blood, inherited from your forebears, is tragically hosed away like everyday mud or dust.
There was still some blood on the walls, 30 feet above us. An onlooker said it was the bomber's own blood. A man on a raised mechanical platform was busy hosing it away. The jet of water was a powerful one and did the job in minutes.
The bomber chose a busy, bustling place to blow himself up. He was standing outside a small shop selling clothes. Now the whole front of the shop was blown away, including some of the upstairs part.
Other shopkeepers, further away, are inspecting the damage and broken glass and trying to tidy up. There is a hatshop next door and also a breadshop with the attractive dual-culture name of "Boulangerie Yahouda". Had somebody come from France to Israel to build a new life? Over all the shops a banner proclaims, "We want to live in peace."
A small group of ultra-orthodox Jews in long black coats and black felt hats is chanting "Arabs out of Israel! We want vengeance!" A polite young man points out the banner with a picture of the fundamentalist Rabbi Meir Kahane, assassinated in New York 11 years ago.
Then he joins the protesters: "Kahane was right! Arabs out!" A lone peace activist is arguing passionately: "Listen to the Arabs!" In the background a man repeatedly blows the traditional shofar, a ram's horn, to "bring the Jews closer to God." He pauses to say, "This is my gun."
It is reassuring that the group of fundamentalists is so small. It is reassuring also to see the calm and unruffled way the emergency services to their job. Sadly they have had plenty of practice, especially in this district. Only 100 metres away there is the Sbarro pizzeria, where 15 people were killed last August.
A jeweller told me that people had started shopping again following a slump after recent tragedies. So there was a sizeable crowd in King George Street when Mohammed Hashaika blew himself and the others into eternity.
What led this 22-year-old, his whole life in front of him, to believe that these humble folk frequenting small shops and cheap cafes were his enemy? What evil was done to him that he should seek to do such evil in return? How long can this go on?