Authors

I Love Frankie Cosmos

I was floating down the streets of Paris at 40 kilometres per second, my arms straining against his denim jacket, laundry powder and cigarette smoke and joyful fear. A thousand indie rock songs spinning in my ears. Like a dream from a movie where I couldn’t belong. I was in Paris in summer, and I was having the time of my life. He had curly hair and converses and he was Into Music.

“How I sleep at night”: Exclusive Q&A With A Metro Ticket Inspector

Jerusalem, 1:42 AM

smoky glass army past

Desert Dreaming

It was one of my first weeks as a volunteer in the desert eco-village of Lotan, as the relentless sun scorched onto my tanned shoulders and I was 20 metres up a date palm, up to my elbows sorting sticky, squashed dates. It was 2 pm, nearly time to climb onto the tractor that would take us back for a hearty lunch of three different types of pasta, two types of tomato sauce and one type of salad: Israeli salad. The other volunteers and I were participating in the usual end of work banter, until Yaki, the kind, father-of-four, Neil Patrick Harris lookalike, communist, rap-loving, crazy boss of the date plantation scaled our tree with his bare hands and said something that would guide my journey in the months to come.

My New Friend

Today I bought silver hoop earrings to be like my new friend.