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I was born in Tunisia, in Tunis, a few steps from that city’s large ghetto. My father, a harness maker, was somewhat pious, naturally somewhat so, as were all men of his trade and his station in life…
One more incident.
A woman shows up at the president’s office and demands the immediate return of her son, who is working in Djelloula, in the Italian sector.
It is impossible to reason…
Things have changed since we last met. Some of your friends have already reached their homeland; others are soon to follow. Once opened, the gates will not shut again. Nothing will ever be the same as…