The sky is white.
Diana Abu-JaberTag: first-sentence
When Matussem Ramoud opened his eyes each morning, his wife would still not be there.
Diana Abu-JaberTag: first-sentence
Marry, don't marry,' Auntie Aya says as we unfold layers of dough to make an apple strudel.
Just don't have your babies unless it's absolutely necessary.'
How do I know if it's necessary?'
She stops and stares ahead, her hands gloved in flour. 'Ask yourself, Do I want a baby or do I want to make a cake? The answer will come to you like bells ringing.' She flickers her fingers in the air by her ear. 'For me, almost always, the answer was cake.
She stares at her knife and wishes she were smarter about things. Wishes she knew how to say something wise or consoling to him, something that wouldn't sound frightened or awkward. But then she remembers the time after her parents' death, when people would approach her and try to explain her loss to her; they said things that were supposed to cure her of her sadness, but that had no effect at all. And she knew then, even when she was nine years old, that there was no wise or consoling thing to say. There were certain helpful kinds of silences, and some were better than others.
Diana Abu-JaberHere is something you have to understand about stories: They point you in the right direction but they can't take you all the way there. Stories are crescent moons; they glimmer in the night sky, but they are most exquisite in their incomplete state. Because people crave the beauty of not-knowing, the excitement of suggestion, and the sweet tragedy of mystery.
Diana Abu-JaberSometimes when she lies awake her body feels as finely made as a tuning fork. She can hear and smell the most delicate things, the smell and music of thought itself.
Diana Abu-JaberShe wonders sometimes if it's a sort of flaw or lack in her - the inability to lose herself in someone else. . . . she's never quite understood how people could trade in quiet spaces and solitary gardens and courtyards, thoughtful walks and the delicious rhythms of work, for the fearful tumult of falling in love.
Diana Abu-JaberConsider the difference between the first and third person in poetry [...] It's like the difference between looking at a person and looking through their eyes.
Diana Abu-JaberTag: poetry point-of-view
...tasting a piece of bread that someone bought is like looking at that person, but tasting a piece of bread that they baked is like looking out of their eyes.
Diana Abu-JaberLet the beauty we love be what we do. There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground
Diana Abu-JaberPagina 1 di 3.
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