Painting by Avi Katz.
(photo credit: AVI KATZ)
“THE HARIRA didn’t come out so great today,” the waitress advised. “If you want soup, I’d go for the sweet potato.”Instead of standing, the waitress had pulled up a chair. The father and his grown daughter were the only clients in the restaurant, which looked like it had been flown in from the West Coast, with its small tables and backbreaking chairs ranged around a large central unfinished wood counter. It was squeezed between an Ethiopian bar and a high-end Middle Eastern grill, both of them similarly empty, on Borochov Alley, a bit east of the shuk, between Jaffa and Agrippas. The stabbings were keeping people home, so the waitress had time on her hands.
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