38 years since she died, I can still count on my Safta.
A tribute to one of the most fulfilling relationships in my life, and a now very cherished memory.
The language of my soul is a mishmash of all the places my family comes from.
How the interconnected bustle of Brooklyn came to feel like home.
On learning to appreciate the small moments of growth.
Marc Gafni's ex-wife's unexpected letter to the "other women." And to all those who hold onto dark secrets.
I would never try to convince you,
The majesty of the birds
Is not manmade.
We walk through the desert to a God who has forgotten us.
But I'd love to sit and drink coffee with you and hide intense emotions behind my shell and long skirt.