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Another week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it…
Fabius Lind’s days are running out in blood.
Red serpents of failures empty his veins.
In his head—white muddy stains. Confusion.
And a heavy load on his heart.
He could have . . .
He could have . .…
The old man Moshe Sefardnick sits in the rear of the place on a camp stool. There is never any work for him to do and indeed he is too old for it, too bewildered. The old man has never been able to…
Hester sat down quietly next to her mother, whose sewing went on and on, a mild substitute for conversation. For a while, Hester watched the long, important-looking shadows that encroached upon the…
There is a certain place where dumb-waiters boom, doors slam, dishes crash; every window is a mother’s mouth bidding the street shut up, go skate somewhere else, come home. My voice is the loudest. […
[…] Statistically speaking, in any given week at the school, the rabbi had once calculated, approximately one quarter of these girls, about seventy-five girls in all, had their periods. Could anyone…
In twelfth grade I am at the height of my power as a young woman. I am experienced. I am loved. I am excelling in my classes. I am president of my school and lead all school meetings in the gym every…
[…] [I]f suddenly Mexico and Israel went to war, on which side would I fight? My cowardly answer was plain and simple: “I really wasn’t cut out to be a soldier. So on neither one, since I’m a pacifist…
In the hot tranquillity of Sunday afternoons in Lusaka, beyond the shrill whistle of the cicadas and the drone of radio sports commentaries, we could hear the muffled thudding of tribal drums.
The…
In Brownsville tenements the kitchen is always the largest room and the center of the household. As a child I felt that we lived in a kitchen to which four other rooms were annexed. My mother, a “home…