A vague memory of what use to be my home
Of the spices smell rising from the pots in my mothers kitchen
Of steamy clouds coming out of the bathroom on Friday evening
Of basketball games with the older guys in the neighbors on the broken court
Of my brother coming to my rescue after a fight for my launch
Memory of the old house I used to hate so much and wished I grew up already
A fragment of nostalgia I just miss so much. How I wish I had a few more minutes of that time
A reflection in the old city, Jaffa, Israel.