Tuesday March 6

• First buds of--is it peach or plumb--blossoms breaking out of the dead looking tree. The fig is budding too--tight green bumps that unfurl to hand shaped leaves
• Walked through a metal gate  and construction site to find the majestic old Eitz Haim Yeshiva. It feels haunted, or like stepping back in time. A small curcle of light falls on  the uneven stone steps. Old inscriptions dot every wall. The paint spackles and dirt glow in the light breaking through the door

• The playground is both a mixed, uniting space, and so separate. Each social group sticks to themselves, as though surrounded by a glass bowl. The four Haredi boys climb to the top of the  rope pyramid. Their mother is catching the afternoon prayer behind them. The three young hijab-clad Arab mothers congregate by the swings. The two Modern-Orthodox French families are by the sea-saw. The kids run between each other, but don't really interact.  The little Arab boy gives Y. A smile.
• The red  swiss-cheese style climbing toy picks up on the shape and pattern of the red sheet hanging from the distant balcony behind it

• The elegiac light breaking through the playground at the end of this winterspring day

• made meatballs for the first time in my life, and shocked by the fleshy, fatty texture of the ground turkey in my hands