Shirley Kaufman

I go to the center of the world near the edge of Jerusalem where the grapes are all picked and the men are climbing into the olive trees. I watch how they beat the branches and the dark fruit drops to the ground as the families move in and out of the [...]

This is a city of exiles. In spring the wind lifts from the surface of the Dead Sea over the wilderness in a blast of sand. It blows on the carpets as we beat them until the threads are raw and fail apart from each other. All day we hear the shutter [...]

When you live in Jerusalem you begin to feel the weight of stones. You begin to know the word was made stone, not flesh. They dwell among us. They crawl up the hillsides and lie down on each other to build a wall. They don't care about prayers, the s [...]