ABSTRACT
While wandering around the Hebron old city a week ago, I met a young boy who told me not to take pictures of his younger siblings. He seemed suspicious of me, so I put my camera away and smiled, turning to walk away. The boy’s father, a blacksmith, was working in his shop nearby and invited me to chat, along with his brother. When the son saw me interacting so naturally with his father and uncle, he came over and apologized. Soon he wanted me to meet the rest of his family. After the requisite three invitations, I climbed with him through the twisted stairs and alleys of the ancient city up to his home, where his mother and sisters welcomed me warmly and forced heaps of food upon me without asking whether I was hungry or not. Luckily, I was famished. I ate and the family asked me questions about my work and my family and invited me to stay the night.
