From a street nearby, I wrote you letters. For months they were kept in a box near the door, stacked up and waiting. I wish I knew where you were so I could tell you things. We wound up in the underground. I found us huddled near a vending machine, drinking from the same cup of coffee, laughing at a photograph of a fat man wearing a tu-tu on the wall, advertising cellphones. The train approached, shrieking into the hour, wind rushing. In the middle of Pigalle I sat down and c

4 ème- She sat on the steps to Agudath Hakehilot in the Marais. I was coming to meet her for lunch and she waved with her black mittens when she saw me round the corner off Rue des Rosiers. It’s unseasonably cold for January and she told me she’s sweating on the inside. We discussed where we should eat and she tapped her toe to the sound of woodwind instruments. There is a parade nearby and we cannot hear each other speaking. I leaned my head against hers so I could arrange t

Earlier this year, Katia Belmadani (filmmaker, photographer and co-creator of the global campaign, One Million Sisters) was visiting me...