It was only after reading about Mohammed Assaf's victory in Haaretz that I realized I had missed yet another nation-building event.
I’ve known you since ’48, and even if you do whatever you can to forget I exist, I’m there in the back all the time, and somehow I’ve started to feel I’m a part of you.
I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I felt that celiac, which I’d never even known existed, was a much more fitting illness for our family.
'This is a crap place,' whispered a man in his forties sitting next to me, in an East Jerusalem accent. 'There is no future here.'
Last Friday, our weekly columnist realized he is both a racist and an idiot.
'Do you have any Arab coffee?' the electrician from East Jerusalem asked.
What will she say? I traveled to Israel, I ended up with a Palestinian family? Do you know what that will do to her self-confidence?
'Do you smoke?' was the first question my father-in-law-to-be asked.
I'm afraid of fire. Fire and water, my grandmother used to say, are the worst ways to die. I tried to reassure myself, thinking that it's a Jewish holiday after all.
True, we Arabs are not the country’s champions in poverty, overcrowding, crime, road accidents and drowning in the sea; but when it comes to women - and sorry about the generalization - I think Arab women are the most beautiful in the world.