A friend of mine who was in New York on 9/11 told me that in the days and weeks following the attack, one could feel how the city had lost its soul. What is happening now in Tel Aviv is hardly as dramatic as that attack, but the streets are radiating a rather dark and gloomy sense, gnawing away at the special spirit of Tel Aviv and ultimately overwhelming it. This is a city in the middle of an anxiety attack. Yes, it still functions, but its nerves are on edge.

When the first rockets were fired on Tel Aviv on July 8, it still seemed as if the city had managed to preserve the cynical self-confidence that protected it from the harsh realities of the Middle East. Tel Aviv was no stranger to rocket attacks. It had come under fire during Operation Pillar of Defense in 2012. At the time, it ridiculed the attacks with the kind of self-confidence that very few people possess. It wasn’t a bad thing either. The capacity that people who live in Tel Aviv have to continue enjoying their lives, even in times of crisis, is one of the most charming aspects of life here, in what many people call “Israel’s only real city.”

Chairs filled the sidewalk outside a popular old pub, across from a huge TV screen. Dozens had gathered to watch the German soccer blitzkrieg against Brazil. The first time the ball got past the Brazilian goalkeeper — the first of seven goals — two loud explosions could be heard high above. That was hardly enough to stop the people sitting there from cheering. Afterward, a few people looked around, wondering what had just happened, but no one thought for a moment to leave their seat or put down their beer to go to a protected space, like a public shelter. One of the women sitting said, “It’s pretty surreal, what’s happening here,” but that was the most dramatic response to the dissonance. It was as if it had all been erased by this rare example of virtuosity in soccer.

Tel Aviv’s Mayor Ron Huldai can claim that the people of his city are taking what’s happening with a degree of equanimity. The newspapers can continue claiming that the people still living the good life in Tel Aviv provide a solid “protective edge” to the city, still, sometime between that past Tuesday and this weekend, there was a crack in the veneer of Tel Aviv’s ability to have fun. The trauma is creeping into the protected space of people’s consciousness. Tel Aviv is not the southern city of Sderot, and it certainly isn’t Gaza. The people living here are hardly the main victims of the current campaign. But the same sharp tenacity, accompanied by complacency, self-deprecating humor and a firm grip on life has been shaken more than it has ever been since I came to this city 10 years ago.