The Haunted Cinema

The cinema lies empty now. Carpets curl in the crepuscular light, the screen ripped. The air is scented with mulch and damp, the pungent whiffs of Tel Aviv’s underbelly. The heat rises outside, a heat that renders one breathless, a heat that grabs your arms and chests. Yet inside this sanctum of ghosts there is coolth still. Mice scurry and pigeons coo where once lovers cuddled in the silver darkness, their souls a thousand miles away, in America, the Goldene Medina, or in Paris, the City of Light, miles crossed in imagination only. A weekly treat, in the sticky Tel Aviv nights of yesteryear, nights with beer and chickpeas, creamy ices and the aroma of orange blossom.

The featured image is for sale as an original acrylic artwork at


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