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The war went on and would not be stopped. On the contrary. It proved futile to hold it to any schedule or limit. At no prearranged time would the land be quiet, not at harvest time, not near winter…
Arab Halva—moist, sticky, fibrous. The taste tears across my lips like a memory. Within me Jaffa stirs, wakens from sleep; eyes and faces of Jaffa.
I am there, it is afternoon, a city half-awake…
I was going to publish this novel under another name.
If I sought to hide its true father, it was not because I was ashamed of the son, but because books with my name on them…
One day Bereh turned up in the yard. An unseasonably warm glow coated the world, glazing the storm windows with an unexpected spring sheen. He walked slowly down the…