I ask if there’s anything that connects us, the new immigrants. ‘We didn’t fit in at home?’ says Megan, in that way that makes statements sound like questions.
I go to the bank to check money has been transferred and to convert it into shekels. My rent won't be paid without it. This simple job took nearly three anxious weeks last month, but has gone more smoothly this time. I'm thrilled to learn the pound has strengthened by a minuscule amount since I… Continue reading Nathan loves Alberto loves Rufina
Jenni, I don't know how old she is, in her sixties, maybe, with a stately figure, likes bright colours. She's wearing a persimmon-coloured top, her nails, done this afternoon, are neon green. I tell her how much I like them. She drums them on the table and says, They’re fun, aren't they. They are. It's… Continue reading Woman with moustache
Le’al tells me that she’s returning to Toronto in a month to finish her law studies. Her husband will follow her in a year, when he’s given a visa. She says she finds it difficult to make friends, which surprises me. She is a gorgeous girl, friendly, sweet, clever. We talk about keeping in touch and… Continue reading Se-juice me!
I took Nathan, Megan and Rufina to the Museum of Modern Art. It was a bit like a school trip. We met at the Nahat and they were all oddly nervous. Maybe they’ve never been to a gallery before. They wittered about ‘modern’ art. They seemed especially nervous of ‘conceptual’ art. I can't imagine what… Continue reading Art attack
Nathan is cautious with money. In no way is this meant as criticism, I wish I was more like him. He doesn’t like to spend it on food and drink outside the home, it’s how he was brought up. He told me last week that he buys still water because it’s cheaper than fizzy. You may… Continue reading Manta Ray
Then, shockingly, he said how he wished Hitler had finished the job he’d started on them.