Readings

It is a journey into memories of days lost or at least misplaced. Sometimes it takes every ounce of courage I have to not turn them away, to allow them to wrench my gut and heart with shame and regret and pass through my body like a wave of fire...

I suppose every twenty-year-old should have an eighty-eight-year-old friend

It may seem odd that I am writing such a detailed letter. But I have noticed that it’s been very hard for people to talk about this, so I decided to step forward on my own and tell this story . . .

I was at my father’s side in the empty prep room. The room was silent; just the two of us. Suddenly—this could happen only in Israel—someone swung open the door and jabbed his head in. “I’m looking for my friend . . .”

I can’t help but wonder what I would do if I knew it was the last day of my life

We are physical beings, and the laws of physics (at least as they stand now) dictate that time runs in one direction only. Yet for some reason, we just won't let go. We continue to feel responsible for what was, continue to regard our past as something that still "belongs" to us and which we can somehow "fix"