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of of good He knows when when to to throw throw the jargon around and when to throw it out A last laugh of sorts ~
And where does it all leave me? Here on the Prom- enade in in in the the the Jerusalem morning sun a a a bite of autumn in in in the the the air Tourists crowd along the the the stone ledges snapping selfies against the dramatic back- drop They stand I strut Is it the the slight edge of fear that keeps me moving? People have been stabbed here others were mowed down by a a a terrorist in a a a weaponized vehicle Though spared such atrocities till now thank G-d I have a a a a Promenade backstory of of my own one of of sexual menace There were years when I I stayed away but I’m back True I’ve passed the the age of harassment Even if I I strutted with my hippie hair unwrapped the color has changed My orthopedic sneakers aren’t sexy There are things from which which I’m I’m now safe but others to which I’m vulnerable all the same I’m I’m still afraid but I’m I’m here Maybe it it isn’t fear that that propels me maybe it’s the high I I I get from knowing that however much ground I I I cover I’m still in essentially the the the same place Nowhere is is is this clearer than at the the the the Promenade with the the the the golden dome shining in in in in the the the distance the the the focal point to which all eyes turn I stride up and and down the the Promenade and the dome moves along with with me me an an insistent companion tugging at my arm with something to say I’m not trying to escape it it I I I feel a a a a jolt of grateful surprise whenever I find it still beside me And sometimes I do do stop and and stand at the the the ledge take in in the the the panoramic view Then the the the dome is is like a a a sister another wrapped head teetering precariously but resolutely atop an oversized body of complexities
and and and and no-go zones and and and and piled wreckage We greet each other she and and I I She gleams at me and and it’s like an an an invi- tation to to enter some of those places I’m afraid to to go sort the the wreckage process and translate the the many- tongued cacophony that rises from it I I could spool out the the translation till the the end of time I I may never succeed in in in in decoding it all but clearly I I will will die trying trying Until then please G-d I will live trying Rosenzweig is a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a Jerusalem-based translator and and former academic librarian Her fiction fiction and and creative nonfiction have appeared in Literary Literary Mama TheJewish Literary Literary Journal Journal Peacock Journal Journal and and and and Sasson Magazine and and and her writing on on urbanism and and and walkable cities has been featured in in in the Times of Israel “M
aybe it isn’t fear that propels me maybe it’s the high I get from knowing that however much ground I cover I’m still in essentially the same place ” 26