"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Alberto Stabile – The Garden and the Ash

This book took my heart, chewed it up, spit it back out, set it on fire, and then laid a flower on it. Although I was in Jerusalem almost twenty years after Alberto Stabile, in events closely related to another hotel, my life was intertwined with what had become the Colony and it is so difficult, in that very high expression of welcome and integration that hotel is by its mission, to describe the precise feeling that another world, of peace and coexistence, was possible. A feeling so intense that you want to shout it out and yet so delicate, so fragile, that you cannot even touch it or whisper it, because it would dissolve under the great weight of politics, of history, of the higher social implications.Yet this book tries, to describe that feeling, simultaneously on tiptoe and in apnea, through delicate portraits that give the impression of having been written in one night. That one great night that began with Rabin’s assassination and that the dawn of a new day never dissipated again.

Spooktober

Spooktober 26 – The Black Monk (1)

Anton Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian physician, short-story writer and playwright, and I’m not particularly fond of him, though he’s widely regarded as one of the greatest masters of modern short fiction and who am I to argue? His work is celebrated for its psychological

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art and fashion

Beauty and Ugliness: an exhibition

A few pictures from the recently closed exhibition on Beauty and Ugliness as an aesthetic paradigma in which what’s ideal and what’s grotesque melt together as sides of the same coin. The exhibition featured works by Brueghel (lent from the other exhibition at Palazzo Reale),

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Spooktober

Spooktober 25 – The Phantom Farm House (2)

Continues from yesterday… ATORRENT of rain held us marooned the next day. Miss Leahy was confined to her room, with a nurse in constant attendance and the house doctor making hourly calls. She was on the verge of a nervous collapse, he told me, crying

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Spooktober 26 – The Black Monk (1)

Anton Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian physician, short-story writer and playwright, and I’m not particularly fond of him, though he’s widely regarded as one of the greatest masters of modern short fiction and who am I to argue? His work is celebrated for its psychological

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