Draft of Memory

I would love to know what happened to our small house which we left in Nazareth years ago… What do the hills look like now? And perhaps the scent of thyme has changed… How old my friends have grown, and I have become just a story for their children… Goodness me, I didn’t even attend their weddings। I wanted to live through the stages of my life with them, and most of all I was waiting for the day on which we would learn about love and forget about games, when we’d fall in love until we became depressed। Oh dear, but the worry of love is not like the worry of [the Israeli] occupation. Now I remember… I always remember.