Here at the shore of Ashkelon we arrived atthe end of memorylike rivers that reach the sea.
Driving to the airport, we pass the equestrianstatue in the park: the plumed generalon his narrow plinth. It’s not easy
He remembers the heat, the first summer in Norfolk, the summer of ‘69. He remembers the way it felt as it radiated from the steel decks, rising so fast that it pulled the breath out of his lungs. He remembers bringing it home on his uniform...