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Café Sport is another scene. A scene, because that is where the artists and intellectuals go to be seen. Taking part is what matters, not winning. It is like sport, which is where the café got its…
Many years later, in London, Father was once again revealed to me in that long-ago evening in Ramat Poriya, sitting on the fence with the Kinnereth lying like a carcass behind him, but this time the…
“Alec,” she said meekly, “you’re wearing out my carpet.”
He stopped. “Pardon?”
“Why the Man of Destiny act?” she asked.
He stared at her uncomprehending.
She put her hand on his arm and shook him. “Oh…
Behind him, a short distance to the right, he had noticed a stranger—give a skeleton a couple of pounds—loitering near a bronze statue on a stone pedestal of the heavy-dugged Etruscan wolf suckling…
The light passes through the curtain and brightens it, spreading a dull glow over the night-table and drawing a single shining line over the edge of the ashtray. The woman’s one eye follows it until…