L'chaim
To Life
When I moved next to A., he had lost his wife for a couple of years and was still adjusting to life without her.
Every Friday, his neighbour and good friend would come to celebrate Shabbat with him and honour his wife's memory, until she couldn't.
When they could, his relatives would visit from abroad.
When I could, I would listen to his love story, his war memories, his world adventures,
his theories on linguistics, geopolitics or theology, a poem.
to more Fridays dear A.
Myriam, Sarah, Malika, Fatima or whatever my name is.