At a juncture between the Jewish Quarter and Muslim Quarter of the Old City, two soldiers, Israelis, stand behind a barricade.

Their eyes follow a schoolboy, an Arab. The child has found a mannequin’s head that’s been severed from the rest of its body. He contemplates the hunk of Styrofoam, holding it in his hands. Then, laughing, he begins kicking it up and down the cobblestones like a football.

A chum joins in, and the boys begin a game of soccer, booting the head between buildings while they scream with delight. It bounces up — the boys wrestle over the head with their hands for a moment — then it drops to the street and the match resumes.

A group of girls dressed in hajibs approach and join in, and for a minute or so, the game becomes co-ed, a free-for-all. A girl stomps on the head with the side of her shoe. It skitters loose and ricochets off the barrier that the Israelis are guarding, landing at the soldiers’ feet.

The children freeze.

One of the soldiers — rifle slung around his shoulder — picks up the head without eyes, staring into it.

Then he smiles, and punts it back to the kids.