Khalil Sakakini Center

Ramallah, Palestine 

http://www.sakakini.org/en/project/recall-reflect-return/

May 2018

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In the garden.

Half an hour later.

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A souvenir. There is a steady murmur of rain. She is huddled upon the ground; a porcelain horse rocking in front of her. Her feet drawn under her, her head resting, her eyes wide open and mysteriously watchful. A song is playing. 

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Wild is the wind. You hold your arms out a little. Let yourself go, now, just let yourself go. 

Let’s talk about the possibility of not fighting. 

 

** Note: None of these words are mine. All of these words are mine.