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.
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
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.
Elli leaned closer, his face serious, and told me something surprising. At least, I was taken by surprise.
Alberto’s espresso arrives. He pulls a face.