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Most Israelis think these are ‘wild' figs or ‘wild' almonds, as they see them in full bloom, towards the end of the winter, heralding the beauty of spring. But these fruit trees were planted and nurtured by human hands. Wherever almond and fig trees, olive groves or clusters of cactuses are found, there once stood a Palestinian village: still blossoming afresh each year, these trees are all that remain.
“So why didn't you marry a Palestinian, then?”I had no ready answer to that question, but I found myself telling her that I hadn't wanted to replicate my parents' experience. I didn't want my household to turn into another Palestinian saga. We slept and woke to news of Palestine; we ate it, drank it, debated it, swore at it.