Chana sits down to write something new, but all that comes out is, There is nothing new under the sun.
Laundry means we are living our lives, stains and all.
I never go to shul on Rosh Hashanah anyway. I gave up long, long ago.
Nothing would change. It would stay cold forever. I would be lost forever. Nothing would change. Except for her, this flower, from green to pink, a glorious three day peak when unfolded, you could breath her in three inches away. Sweet. Even in the rain.
I'm waiting for the messiah like an overdue apology.
This morning my flavor of coffee is my own anxiety.
A discussion with the creator of the Misaviv Hebrew Circle Calendar.
