On a Saturday night thick with protests, guilt, and hunger, going out to eat in Tel Aviv leads to the realization that even our most ambitious food now tastes like survival.
By Howard Feldman –
It turned out that my parents were liars. And not very good ones. It was the late 1970s, and we had travelled from South Africa to London for the first time. When the Nigerian taxi driver innocently asked
where we were from, my mother promptly and proudly declared, “Australia!”...
By Prof. William Kolbrener –
I have been sheltering – with Rembrandt.
My self-portrait came with Dutch postmarks – inside the parcel, the hemp string knotted, the thick brown paper torn-open, the smooth laser-printed acrylic surface underneath.
Glassy depth and weight.
My portable shelter.
Rembrandt...
By Roy Atadgy – I’m known to hide in sentences. Living between punctuation, Rubix-cubing words, interrogating them, inspecting them obsessively––this is my ultimate comfort. When…
By Batnadiv HaKarmi – May the Place console you amongst the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem – Traditional Jewish blessing to mourners Hamakom yenahem…
William Kolbrener The only hope for the Humanities, and the Liberal Arts, and the American University, had been the eradication of antisemitism from its midst.…
Writing on the Wall invites original pieces in any genre – art, photography, essay, poetry, short fiction. We also encourage long-form essays, experiments in genre and voice.
