Tasks always take a stage or two more than you expect in Israel.
Everyone’s eyes were on it, their heads moving with it like at a tennis match.
Rainbow flags everywhere; hanging from balconies, flying from lampposts, in café windows. If this isn’t the gayest city in the world it is, at least, trying to be.
They seemed especially nervous of ‘conceptual’ art. I can’t imagine what dark things they imagine.
She uses French butter to make croissants, and pulls a face at the idea of Israeli butter. Less fat, she tells me.
We may be the definition of rootless cosmopolitans, citizens of the world.
It was so simple to do, I never stopped to think if I really wanted to leave London.