The road and I will sleep
there, next to a cave, over the hill,
then rise at dawn and carry each other
asking: What next? Where are you taking me?
I see the fog, but I don’t see the road,
nor does it see me.
Have I arrived?
Or have I been separated from the road?
I asked myself, then said:
Now, from this distance,
a traveler like me
can look back! 

~ Mahmoud Darwish, “The Traveler”

We all need to look back after we have journeyed to or from some place. Sometimes the cast-back eye sees more, despite the blurring effects of memory. I lived in Israel for nearly 5 years, and still it is a mystery. So, like Darwish’s traveler, I look back in time, scanning old photos for a clue, riffling through pixels as if they were postcards.

What is written on the reverse side of these images? What is written in the crevasses I didn’t explore? In the questions I didn’t ask? The photos don’t say. So I try to content myself with the unknown and unanswered. Maybe the mystery of a land or people is like the dark side of the moon. Maybe beauty is only possible if we can’t compass its full scope.

The Dome of the Rock, a site holy to Christians, Muslims, and Jews

A Palestinian boy in a refugee camp near Ramallah.

Arafat “drowning” in melons

Carmel Market, Tel Aviv – like Ali Baba’s cave.

Fashion-conscious women in Bethlehem.

Male versions of the Fates, sitting on a bench, people-watching.

St. Peter’s Church in Old Jaffa.

Inside the Church of the Nativity, Bethelehem.

Graffiti on the “security wall/separation fence”.

Tel Aviv Beach.

Someplace, Tel Aviv.

Another bike, this one in a Bethlehem refugee camp.

Children playing in the sand, Tel Aviv.