This morning, my mother made chicken soup from the remains of the chickens roasted with rosemary for my father's birthday. This evening, we made knaidlach from the remains of the matzah we have been eating all week. This is so traditional, it should come as no surprise I bought an illustrated retelling of Ansky's The Dybbuk this afternoon from Curious George & Friends.
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Active Entries
- 1: Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time
- 2: There's nothing here but echoes
- 3: If I'm hoping, then I'm hoping for the frost
- 4: There's no boat to take me where all the stars go to cross the water
- 5: Once you know it's a dream, it can't hurt
- 6: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 7: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 8: Let the lights run like rivers all over my skin
- 9: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 10: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
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