Shlomit says that she can’t help it, but she is a little bit racist. It had to be today, of course, everyone is thinking about it, that’s what it’s for.
Nathan’s rules were, ‘no orgies, no meat’. So, no cock, no comfort.
Alberto did something to displease a Russian customer, who, as a sort of warning, mimed slitting his throat.
He’s in Israel ‘in case’, and I know that the case he’s most nervous of is Muslims taking over Germany. Israelis, as far as I can see, think that’s something that’s already happened.
On my birthday I go to an exhibition. Its themes are: death, separation, misery, gloom. Everything but fun. Perfect!
He said he’d had a headache, and had to pack, but I knew that it was love that had made him a liar.
He was the colour of honey, a few freckles across his shoulders, his pale-pink nipples catching the sunlight.
She killed more bees, just so she could fill the tiny bee graves she’d dug.
If you’re thinking of seeing the Ministry for yourself, it is probably wise to take sandwiches, a thermos and maybe a sleeping bag.
At the launderette, an elderly man took off his trousers, put them into the dryer without washing them. He sat on a chair and offered me a cigarette.
She danced with Alberto, I don’t know why, the joy and sadness of the occasion, I suppose.
Unusually for Israel, this Land of Blutos, he had no beard, no stubble, no hairy chest. He said, “Let’s go in,” so in we went.
Maybe everyone thinks it’s his costume for Purim, a Bacon painting of a Screaming Pope.
Nathan imagines they’d be caught and, besides, the man may be a serial killer, so suggests the cruising park behind the Hilton instead. Much safer.
He’s too polite to say he thinks he’s more handsome than me, but he’s not too polite to think it.
She lies on a rug with Alberto, they are playful with each other, then nap, their bodies touching, like incestuous twins.
You are cute and cute and enjoy the beautiful hugs of life. And I actively love kissing hugs and blowjob pussy flowing.
He says I should come back to the table and talk to him more, and blows me a kiss. I wink at him, like a playboy.
Nathan, whose greatest fear is that he’ll develop a resistance to Botox, returned from Frankfurt with the face of an inexpressive eight year old.
A man at another table pointed at me, his hand trembling, and said, “Itzak Stern sat there.”
She looked disgusted, as if I’d admitted to a taste for rat, or beetroot, or something.
I notice a couple on a third floor balcony of the Royal Beach having sex. We watch the distant, bobbing figures for a while.
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
It is my first day at the ulpan, and the first time I spend with people in a common cause since I arrived in November, three months earlier, unless you count queuing at the Ministry of the Interior, that is.
They seemed especially nervous of ‘conceptual’ art. I can’t imagine what dark things they imagine.
We may be the definition of rootless cosmopolitans, citizens of the world.
I reached the shop, down a short alley, and knocked on the door. I knocked again.
She looks behind her, as if to remind everyone of something, and flicks her hair, like a pony flicks its mane.
Nathan pretends to look serious and says, ‘We can talk about politics, if you want,’ and laughs, then repeats himself. We stop talking about Eurovision.