I discover my family lied about my mother’s funeral so I wouldn’t fly back for it. I’m beginning to think they aren’t nice people.
I wasn’t anxious about crashing, but about landing.
He’d tell me fragments about himself, but not much more. He was like a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle to which I’d only found the corners.
I have a memory of a group of us dancing on a pontoon on the lake one Friday night that I think about if ever I need to reduce my blood pressure.
“You’re in the land of Zion,” now, he shouted, “you’re in the land of the Jews!” He was obviously a lunatic, but I didn’t want to back down.
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.