“Husbands take photographs of their wives and children in front of a fountain and call out to the boys who rush back and forth, carrying trays of tea and wrinkly, black dates. We sit at opposite ends of a large… — 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 Image
“.. a country where women are compared to food, her breasts like pomegranates, her lips like ripe dates.” — Jennifer Klinec Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“.. 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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
