He believes that this man has looped a bit of the thread-leash through a corner of his soul.
Diana Abu-JaberThe streets of Aqaba are shell spirals and, on summer nights, crowded and complicated as a woman's heart.
Diana Abu-Jaber..a phantasm, a pink-palmed jinn, a ghost from one of the drowned cities.
Diana Abu-JaberShe let herself stray past the stage of sleep and even past the stage of remembering, and she wanders into the stage of soul-searching. Sometimes 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-Jaber..cold, like swallowed tears.
Diana Abu-JaberThe moment feels laden with mystery and tension, as if for one second the world has agreed to pay attention to time itself.
Diana Abu-JaberWhat about Danny Thomas?" Uncle Hal asks. "What happened to him?
"Dead," Uncle Abdelhafiz says. "Nice Lebanese boy."
"Never mind about Danny Thomas, look what happened to your whole family! Look at your cousin Farouq, Great Uncle Ziad, Auntie Seena and Jimmy's son Jalal," Aunt Jean cuts in disapprovingly.
"Dead, dead, dead, and in jail.
Tag: family-relationships
I’m in my junior year but I can’t take it anymore. The beige walls, the scent of linoleum and used lockers, the shrill bell between classes. High school is sucking the life out of me.
Diana Abu-JaberTag: high-school teenage-angst
Dad says that everyone invented baklava.” It occurs to me now to wonder what that means. Aunt Aya rolls her eyes.
“Your father? He is the worst of the worst. He thinks he cooks and eats Arabic food but these walnuts were not grown from Jordanian earth and this butter was not made from Jordanian lambs. He is eating the shadow of a memory. He cooks to remember but the more he eats, the more he forgets.
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