Category: Writing from home

I’m not brave.
     I have never offered to check if there’s a burglar or terrorist outside in our garden when the dog growls and barks at night.

    I take a tranquillizer before I visit the dentist.
    I don’t live in a town or a kibbutz five minutes from a border. When I worked in the community school on a deserted, badly-lit road, I recited the Shema as I drove home at night from staff meetings. I clutched the steering wheel, my body hunched forward, tailing the headlights of the driver in front of me.