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Reesa Grushka essay ome people ease into your life as if they have always been there and have only been out mailing a letter. Their chair is still warm. Some people know you, recognize in you immediately what most never see. In the presence of such people the word no becomes meaningless. So it was with Arieh. I had been feeling miserable all morning, gummed up with melancholy and bitter thoughts. I had delayed a trip to the souk, the covered market, in order to walk aimlessly around the university's residential complex feeling the sun's unrelenting heat, the hard stones of the little paths between buildings, the prickly Fa l l 2 0 0 6 / T h e M i s s o u r i r e v i e w 1 1 fingers of rosemary that sprouted everywhere, a dark mute green, releasing a fog of sweet scent when I brushed my hand over them. There stood an hour's walk between me and the souk, a walk that began as a steep decline from the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus, along El Wadi road in East Jerusalem. Then the route wandered in the shade of
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Jan 8, 2006
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