The building has not so much blown up as imploded. Thickets of metal protrude from what was once the roof of this apartment block.
It’s as if a vengeful god has reached down from the heavens and yanked out its steel entrails.
Next to it a skyscraper stands scorched, its side mottled with soot. The asphalt on the street below is torn, gaping open like a wound. Nearby, a carpet of shattered glass glints in the morning light.
I’m in Ramat Gan in central Tel Aviv, where an Iranian missile attack has just struck several residential buildings. Emergency services have cordoned off the impact site.
Police warn curious onlookers to watch their step, as throngs of gathered Press push against the makeshift barriers. One cheeky TV crew tries to scoot around them and is gently pushed back.
