"When we talk of this as a place of destruction, we turn these people into the other." This was how Jay Weissberg, the artistic director of the Pordenone Silent Film Festival, held annually in Northern Italy, introduced one of the more emotional film experiences I've had this year. The occasion was a screening of Palestine: A Revised Narrative, built entirely around silent films from Palestine shot by the British army during World War I.
This past July, I bought eggplants at the farmers' market, intending to make my grandmother's signature maqlubeh: the cinnamon-and-allspice-scented rice dish layered with fried eggplants and chicken, cooked in a pot, then flipped onto a serving platter, forming a golden dome. Before I had the chance to peel the eggplants, stripe by stripe, and drop them into hot oil, a WhatsApp message came in from my mother-a single, waving-hand emoji at an unusual hour.