This story, authored by newspaper columnist Yente Serdatsky, was first published in the Yiddish daily “Forverts” on July 3, 1921. The following translation, by Dalia Wolfson, was made possible with support from the Yiddish Book Center. Summertime my...
“Take it,” the stranger says, stretching the clementine wedge toward me. I smell the promise of sweet citrus and a hint of myrrh. My mouth waters, but I resist. I hear Nina’s voice echoing in my mind: Did she wash the skin before she peeled it? Are her hands...
Before the asteroid hits, we pack up the car. Swimsuits and sun hats, coloring books, a fully stocked diaper bag, though the toddler is almost potty trained—another week or two and she would’ve had it. The pills you stole from the med room at work, just in case. Trail...
Photo by Erica Weidner from the ⒺⓂ to the Ⓖ, mosaics burst from subway tile walls:a pop of color in my grim grey commute,a rush of freedom running between crowded trains.suns explode with crimson color against turquoise skies,lines of orange and green stem from...
Something about a competitive man, or woman, let’s just call it a person because there are all sorts of them these days and there always have been, they’ve just been hidden more or less, but anyway, something about this kind of person makes you feel pressed for time,...
“Cribstone bridge to Bailey Island” by WorldIslandInfo.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 Rose awoke that morning in midcoast Maine to a fog that covered the streets and blanketed the homes: a fog so thick that breathing felt closer to swimming or drowning in...
