Raymond and Hannah
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
judgment is indifferent: they shit on the heads of Jews, Muslims and Christians, Greeks, Arabs and Armenians. At the sound of the first bursts of gunfire that spreads onto praying backs, or weakly thrown stones, or nail bombs shrapnelling children’s faces, they scatter. Hannah in the city In the stalls, she searches for a good map so she can find her way to the apartment listing board she was told about months before. When? Where? What? Dust, covered women, machine guns, running water, leering
neighbours. Only the plastic water jugs, borrowed from the Institute’s storeroom, match. Guests arrive in staggered blocks, bearing wine and dishes. The conversation rises pitch by pitch until, after a solemn lighting of the candles and a few short prayers, they sit down to the meal. Then silence fills ten minutes while they destroy a few platters of potato kugel and an enormous chunk of sea bass. Talk is awkwardly limited by the position of the tables, and some guests can eavesdrop on only
loved them back, until the Muslims came, and there was no love in Jerusalem. The Christians, however, were full of love. They adored the Muslims and the Jews, and the Muslims adored the Christians, until they forced them out. The Turks loved the Ayyubids. The Mamelukes loved the Turks. The Ottomans loved the Mamelukes. The British loved the Ottomans. They loved the Jews and the Arabs, and the Jews and the Arabs loved them back until they departed. The Jews loved the Arabs, and the Arabs loved
lady, and the dust doubles and we don’t even leave except for food. Toronto. Consider it. Look around for a job, I suppose, and a synagogue. And some nice Jewish guy. Raymond stops it all; better to be up in the air with him than nothing on the ground. Fucking on this narrow, unfortunate twin. Like the first week. Repetition: we make love in places we’re about to abandon. Conversation over pita, hummus, tabbouleh and fried tomato “What’s going to happen with us in Toronto?” Hannah asks.
things in the attic are themselves, a bed, and two suitcases. Hannah on means He carries shit around. I will carry myself to Jerusalem, fill in the hole of what’s missing, interiorily (is that a word?). How will I do it? How exactly? Don’t think. Don’t. Yet. Raymond on ends At first, it was a considerable advantage in terms of efficiency and convenience that Hannah was shortly to depart. Now, the fact is painful to me. The question is what event separates these two conditions. They are before