“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.
She said she’d visited my father’s grave and told him my news. He was, I understand, thrilled by it.
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.
I’ve decided to stop saying goodbye, and start saying hello, instead.
It was so simple to do, I never stopped to think if I really wanted to leave London.