Where are the smiles gone from the streets?
Forced away by empathy and common sorrow?
Or maybe it’s just the weather.
Nearby there are sirens in the streets,
Sadistic onlookers whirring in the air.
But down here is the solemnity only in my head?
There is blood in the streets.
The TVs are all turned on.
More sirens. I’m in Israel again.
14 September, 2006
13 September, 2006
Hamsa (خمسة = חמסה) is the Arabic word for the number five (חמישה, hamisha in Hebrew), and also refers to an image of a hand often used as an amulet. It’s also the name of the band that wrote the song שיר החמסה (The Hamsa Song), but that’s not really so relevant. I’ve been noticing many of them hanging around girls’ necks here in Montreal. (more…)
The long-awaited chronicles from my first week or so in Montreal are finally here…
Once again, I had little sleep on an overnight bus-ride. (more…)
9 September, 2006
There are two pieces of Australian media I’m keeping up with while away. One is Column 8. The other is those little snippets of The Chaser’s War on Everything posted weekly on the ABC web site. (more…)
5 September, 2006
So it was the 24th day of August when I landed in Toronto. Having had very little sleep, I also had a headache. And big bags. I had called the residence in which I would be staying (thanks to Simi) and spoke to Granny before the plane took off, seeing as I would no longer have any mobile phone reception after takeoff. A lift from someone I randomly met at the airport (after playing a game of Jewish geography with a few common acquaintences from Toronto and Sydney) helped me get to their place, only the car left before I realised that the note on the door instructed me to call Granny if I wanted to get in. Of course there was no way to do that. So, on the porch, with my bags beside me, I ate a classic lunch of Brooklyn bagels and avocado and wondered (through my headache) what next. (more…)
1 September, 2006
The first part of this blog’s story didn’t actually happen in NYC. It happened further up Long Island, when I got off at Woodmere station, not sure of my instructions on which way to head (Reuven hadn’t made the train—he called me instead), and with a little more than a minute’s credit in my phone. (more…)