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cremainsMy sister was married this past August to a man who knows the decrees of the Türkmenbaşy by heart ("He made a sculpture of his head out of gold, and set it to rotate to always face the sun. He wrote a book and made a sculpture of the book out of gold, and set it to rotate to always face the sun. He renamed a month after himself. He renamed a month after his book"). Listening to this made me all the sadder to be living in Sweden, which has no sense of national flair. In Israel, things like that might really happen, and at least one actually did (the ordering of a palace of ice in a desert climate). Sweden is only about clean public transportation and powerwalking.
Thanks to memories of my havrutha Ben and watching the results of his education in an all-male, all-Orthodox interpretive dance troupe in Jerusalem, I finally lost my sense of dance-related embarrassment and became an unstoppable machine. If only I had learnt all this in time for my own wedding.
Earlier, I travelled to the island of Asperö, where I witnessed Swedish lawn roombas cut the grass of the wealthy even without a remote control. I also saw many shirtless Swedes bathing. Just because of the way my life turned out, the only people I've seen shirtless have been Jews and one Italian (my anarchist cousin), so this was pretty startling. Ten measures of salon-fresh chest went out into the world and nine went to the Aryans.
On the way to the library I saw neo-Nazi graffiti sprayed on a wall. In Jerusalem I would have corrected it without a thought, but here I feel a little more anxious about trying. I mean, who knows.
There was a well in Asperö by the woods, covered by a very heavy stone. I managed to shove it just enough off to look inside. My reflection was impossibly far away, in a tiny, white crescent moon the wrong way from the sky.
Thanks to memories of my havrutha Ben and watching the results of his education in an all-male, all-Orthodox interpretive dance troupe in Jerusalem, I finally lost my sense of dance-related embarrassment and became an unstoppable machine. If only I had learnt all this in time for my own wedding.
Earlier, I travelled to the island of Asperö, where I witnessed Swedish lawn roombas cut the grass of the wealthy even without a remote control. I also saw many shirtless Swedes bathing. Just because of the way my life turned out, the only people I've seen shirtless have been Jews and one Italian (my anarchist cousin), so this was pretty startling. Ten measures of salon-fresh chest went out into the world and nine went to the Aryans.
On the way to the library I saw neo-Nazi graffiti sprayed on a wall. In Jerusalem I would have corrected it without a thought, but here I feel a little more anxious about trying. I mean, who knows.
There was a well in Asperö by the woods, covered by a very heavy stone. I managed to shove it just enough off to look inside. My reflection was impossibly far away, in a tiny, white crescent moon the wrong way from the sky.
