…Assaf peeked through a wooden gate and saw a huge geranium burning red, growing through an old tin tub. He decided he would come back here sometime when everything was finished: his experienced eye checked the flow between areas of light and shade, framing pictures, drawn to a black cat lying between fragments of orange glass, pointed like the scales of a dragon, on top of a wall. Here and there, in the yards against the walls, were old armchairs, mattresses, too. Big jars full of pickles sat on the windowsills. Assaf and Dinka passed by a synagogue, where people in work clothes were praying the Mincha [afternoon prayers] to a tune he knew, the tune of his father and grandfather. They passed an ugly slab of concrete – a public shelter covered with colorful children’s murals – another synagogue, a very narrow alley covered by a weeping willow like a canopy –

This was where Dinka stopped…She sat by a bench under the willow, put her head on her paws, her eyes pointed forward. She was waiting for someone.