Soup Made From Flowers

Yesterday, we made soup in the garden. This involved filling bowls of water with leaves and gravel and blue flowers and a dead bee. (The bee was already dead, there was no cruelty.) My cousin's five-year-old garnished the soup with rosemary, and it looked quite lovely. My nephews have gone now, every bone, every muscle aches, I feel stretched on a rack. For the first time, my older nephew asked my mum why Auntie nmj had to rest so much, my mum said 'cos she is a sick auntie, and I said to her later, you shouldn't tell him I'm ill, he'll be scared of me.

Olives & a Guardian Article

I have often thought that Kalamata olives taste like hospitals.

This is an excellent article on the Middle East.

Saxophone

I just read this article from the New York Times. The saxophone from the bar next door is in tune with my melancholy tonight. What happened to the ceasefire? I finished a novel today by Joanna Briscoe, Sleep with Me. It's a kind of thriller about infidelity, with a nice twist, but she uses figures of speech that are clumsy, and jar. Am also reading When the Bulbul Stopped Singing by Raja Shehadeh, but it's depressing as hell, about the second Intifada. The writer lives in Ramallah. Now I must rest for my nephews' visit.

Fishermen Who Are Not Allowed To Fish

The fishermen in Gaza have not been allowed to fish since late June, and even when they are allowed to fish, they have to stay within a six mile radius and are shot at by Israeli gunboats if they try to go further.

No matter that the Oslo Accords agreed that the Gazan fishermen could fish out to twenty nautical miles.

Around 35 000 people in Gaza depend on the fishing industry for their survival. Imagine how it feels not being allowed to fish on your own fucking coastline.

A New Fridge & a Ceasefire

This has been a nice start to the week - a new fridge and a ceasefire. The new fridge is so quiet, in fact too quiet, and I am almost afraid it's not working properly. I got so used to the gnashing of the old one.

Without a Fridge

I was quite enjoying the challenge of not having a fridge, but it's wearing thin now. I'm using a cool bag and feel like I'm on a constant picnic.

This is an interesting article on the attitudes of Israeli intellectuals towards the current conflict. And a Reuters photographer has been suspended for doctoring photographs of Lebanon - in one shot, he made the smoke over Beirut look blacker and thicker than it was. Why did he feel the need to do this? Was he afraid the true horror was not coming across?

Box

I feel scrunched up today like I've been kept in a box for too long.