“Their veil-muffled voices became loud and crisp. It felt strangely intimate to see them this way, the shapes and textures of their hair, the red lipstick on their mouths, the fact that some of them preferred pink t-shirts to blue,… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share Image
“Their veil-muffled voices became loud and crisp. It felt strangely intimate to see them this way, the shapes and textures of their hair, the… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“.. a country where women are compared to food, her breasts like pomegranates, her lips like ripe dates.” — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“That transactions at the market, at the rice seller, in the narrow archways of the gold bazaar were belaboured exchanges of tuts and hisses,… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“I pull my scarf forward to hide the blonde streaks of my hair and avoid using my hands - the giveaway of a European… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“.. the torshi shops in Bistodoh Bahman Square where vegetables, roots, even young pine cones are pickled, swimming in buckets of caraway seeds and vinegar.” — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“It is an adjustment to be in the kitchen with a stranger, a man, after growing used to the meticulous calm of housewives. When… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“Husbands take photographs of their wives and children in front of a fountain and call out to the boys who rush back and forth,… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“Herbs carried in special baskets, bread wrapped in knotted, muslin cloths, thick stews soured with unripe grape juice, carrots boiled with sugar and rosewater,… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“Placing my key on the reception desk, I imagine him a few kilometres away, stepping over his parents in the dark on the way… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“Separated by the polite distance of a green table, we easily could be strangers, counting our change and settling down for a treat. The… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“They ask questions for which we have no answers, and we don’t care to explain ourselves. For there is no term for what we… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
“The sole tie that binds us is his mother and her kitchen, and the meals I watch disappear down his throat. If my daily… — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share
