Dear friends, the following is not a quotation, but a character from Israela talking to you. Check it out. If you like it, I could post some more.

After the performance, my Dad told me to stay in my seat, that they’d be back in a few minutes, to get me. I waited for the longest time, until the theater people had finished carting stuff off the stage. “You’ll have to leave, son,” they told me. “We’re switching off the lights. We’re closing.”

          I walked out to the parking lot. My dad and Uncle Fahhid were there, talking to the actress from the play. I think, now, it must have been you. Suddenly, before I reached my Dad, you started running, ran, like lightning, to your car. “Who’s that?” I asked my Dad. “A woman," he said. "A woman with problems.”