Catholic. Anarchist. Tattooed. Unapologetic.
The children of Al-Khalil are unlike any I've met in my travels. Each of them divinely beautiful, as curious as tiny birds and uniquely friendly to strangers - often as I walk the streets they cry out a greeting, "Marhaba!" and rush toward me, hand extended to give me a handshake. Something about the hands …
Continue reading "The Sweetness of a Kiss"
Time runs differently in Palestine-Israel, an adagio that slips by in minutes that seem to stretch for hours. I hadn't noticed this until delegation broke, and I was left on my own to explore the country for myself. Perhaps it was the call to prayer that rang out over the rooftops five times a day, …
The scene stays with me as sharply vivid as a finely honed blade. For months afterwards I had nightmares about it.. The armored jeep crept down the main thoroughfare threateningly invisible in the dusk, its tires crunching softly on the loose, rocky pavement. Hadn't been for a few flood lights positioned on the corners of …
The sapphire blue waves of the Galilee sparked in the bright morning sun as I settled myself on the soft dewy grass near its rocky shore. In a country that really has no end to its tourist season, I found myself mysteriously alone in the town of Capernaum. As I wandered aimlessly around the craggy …
It was my second day full day away from Al-Khalil and as I left Jerusalem in my little rental car I felt something brewing inside, a little niggling feeling in the back of my head. Fear. I dismissed it as absurd - there was nothing to be afraid of (at least not anymore), yet as …
