Dr. Genia Goldberg
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never again
Let’s go eat. Sure. Where should we sit? Maybe here— on the terrace. It’s nice outside. Yeah, but… what if a car drives by and shooting starts— like what happened to Arik last month? Right. Inside. That table in the… Continue reading
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My pockets
When I was five, my pockets were full of chestnuts, acorns, and stones. The trees were huge, and adults – wise and almighty. At fifteen, my pockets were full of loose change and lip gloss in three different flavors. The… Continue reading
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When it starts
It starts somewhere between the shoulder blades — a pull, a clench, then it slides into the chest. It squirms. It howls. It shoots a side glance, like a cunning, spoiled child denied its candy. You can ignore this circus… Continue reading
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Let’s not talk about the war
Let’s not talk about the war. Let’s talk about something silly, petty, unimportant— like whether to put peas in the salad, whether to buy that coat on sale. Let’s talk about nothing. Look how strangely bright November is, how the… Continue reading
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Can’t complain
“Can’t complain.It used to be so much worse,”my grandma would say,sighing deeply. It’s a sin to complain.No war, no pogroms.We’re not shlimazels. Life is just so sudden,like the desert wind,sometimes plain,like a bunk in a barracks. Remember, baby,believe and hold… Continue reading
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Why do you really care about Israel?
Stop the occupation! writes George from Greece By the way, Northern Cyprus has been occupied by Turkey since 1974. But who cares about Cyprus, right? Stop the genocide! writes Saleh from Syria By the way, over 200,000 Alawites have been… Continue reading
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From my novel “Last Festival”
When I was little, we rarely ran to the bomb shelter. Compared to the north and south of the country, Tel Aviv was super calm. Until the age of thirteen, I went to a bomb shelter ten times max, almost… Continue reading
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The Air Trembles
The air trembles as vacant places shift.Everyone howls sometimes,eyes turned toward the woods. Everyone trickles as best they can between the rocks. The air trembles as night turns into day. If you ask me whether to dive,or to wait for the wave,I’ll… Continue reading
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Five Dead Friends
Five dead friendsstill live on my phone. Their faces appearwhen Google remembers,when Facebook reminds. Smiling.Drinking.Dancing. But how?They’re in the ground.And I am on the ground.They’re in the sky.And I’m under the sky. My phone suggestsI invite them to a party,send… Continue reading
Genia Goldberg 