short stories

My short stories have been translated and published in magazines, journals and anthologies all over the world. They deal with alternative histories, realities and memories. With my immigration to Berlin, my characters moved with me as well.


memories from haifa

Rigorous Magazine and The Short Story Project, 2018

Memories from Haifa

One day, when I was nine or ten years old, my uncle sent me alone from my father’s clothing shop to the post office in downtown Haifa. I'm not sure whether it was my idea or his idea that I would go unaccompanied by an adult.

Rigorous Magazine. The Short Story Project.



De Guyter publishers, 2018

The Berlin Prize for German Literature

The air was stale at Urbanstrasse Hospital on the southern bank of the Landwehr canal. An exhibit of photographs adorned the hallway with colorful fish, including the type Helena had seen in the Red Sea when she went diving at Bir Suwair with that shabby red snorkel… Read a chapter | The German Hebrew Dialogue.



Consequence Magazine. 2017

To the Son of a Whore

How do I write about Mr. Job M. who tells me that when he was six he found out his mother was working in prostitution? Should I write it from a Mizrahi to Mizrahi point of view? A message from one Arab-Jew, me, to another Arab-Jew, Job?

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Bombay Review, 2016

The Black River

One wintry day I jumped into Berlin's black river. I just didn't care anymore. It's funny that they only put the lifesaver, the white ring with the bright yellow rope, on one side of the bridge. I wondered who would hand me the rope; would anyone want to save me?  

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the black river

every poison holds too much magic

Maarav Magazine. 2016

Every Poison Holds Too Much Magic

I had misgivings about telling him an ordinary story like the hundreds of books his mother bought him at Ikea Books. I wanted to impress him in his time of difficulty. I didn’t know she wouldn’t forgive me. I didn’t think for a moment that she would throw me out.

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Laghoo Magazine. 2015

A Jew abandoned in Baghdad

This Salah, has to be late on the one day when I didn’t take my cell phone, and this crumbling café doesn’t have a single working phone. Of course, it’s today that I have an exhausting headache. That wipes me out. That wipes out my ability to communicate “Allāhu Akba” calls the muezzin…

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