Born In Jerusalem, Wadie Said Went From

I Can Remember The Lush Spring Excitement Of Language In Childhood. Sitting In Church, Rolling It Around My Mouth Like Marbles--tabernacle And Pharisee And Parable, Tresspass And Babylon And Covenant.

The Day Is Refracted, And The Next And The One After That, All Of Them Broken Up Into A Hundred Juggled Segments, Each Brilliant And Self-contained So That The Hours Are No Longer Linear But Assorted Like Bright Sweets In A Jar.

I Have Had To Empty Two Family Homes During The Last Few Years - First, The House That Had Been My Grandmothers Since 1923, And Then My Own Country Home, Which We Had Lived In For Over Twenty Years.

I've Always Been Fascinated By The Operation Of Memory - The Way In Which It Is Not Linear But Fragmented, And Its Ambivalence.

Wars Are Fought By Children. Conceived By Their Mad Demonic Elders, And Fought By Boys.