by Yehuda Y. E.
For years he stayed behind the curtain. His entire childhood was there, in his grandmother’s living room, sensing each fiber of the floral fabric, running fingers on its folds, tracing dancing shadows, wrapped as a cocoon. Sometimes, when eavesdropping on the adults from the other side, he could hear something about a great fire; a cold village in some distant land that suddenly burned down. And a girl, incredibly beautiful but thin to her skin and bones, who sewed amid the inferno a wedding dress from a drape. And he grew up, and turned into a butterfly, and dreamed of flames, and flew out the window one day.
Yehuda Y. E. (1981, Haifa, IL) is the pen name of an Israeli writer, critic, curator and visual artist living and working in Tel-Aviv.
Photo by Skyler Ewing on Pexels.com.
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