Sunday, March 25, 2018 12:01 PM

Walking toward an appointment: A woman across the street pauses to draw a heart and write two words that I can't read in the dust on the back of an SUV. Construction slows traffic near a backyard grove of orange trees. A pungent mix of tar and citrus fills the air. A sign on a fruit stand nearby shows items and prices in Hebrew and, in English, the fading words "Black Friday." Getting near the office half an hour early, I pause at the coffee shop with the kumquat tree. I hand the worker far too much money. (I still confuse the words for "eight" and "twenty.") She hands me back the correct change, more than the item actually cost.