Sunday, September 29, 2019

It's going to be a big Rosh Hashanah for barbecue. The temperature hasn't dropped much from the peak of summer, but at least it isn't painfully hot. In front of the market, down the square from where I'm enjoying a plate of hummus, a display holds a dozen black bags. Each bears a drawing of a fire pit and, in bold white and yellow letters, the words "Umm Al-Fahem BBQ Charcoal." Between the shop and me, a little boy runs after pigeons. They fly away just as he reaches them. I worry that if he falls, his finger may go farther up his nose than he intended. A girl not much older than he is stands nearby. Her t-shirt reads, both normally and as if reflected below a dotted blue line, "Heartbreak Hotel, E.29th & Broadway, NYC." Across the intersection at the center of town, young people talk with others at a stand with a well-made sign: "A sandwich for whoever needs one." In Hebrew, it rhymes.