Inventing Zacharias: Writing Mizrahi Stories
In my sepia-toned memories, I am four years old, and it’s my first visit to Cairo. We are staying with my aunt in her luxury apartment in the Zamalek neighborhood overlooking the Nile, but I have no appreciation for it. I long for McDonald’s, Sesame Street, and pizza, the kind that is so saucy and cheesy, my mother must wash my clothes after I eat it. I’m afraid of the man’s voice that stretches over the city in the belly of the night.
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