The Palestinian flag is fluttering outside my window. It is not my flag. I do not have a flag. I mean, personally, I do not own one. My mother had an American flag. She lived in America and she told me that a man had once climbed up a flagpole and had taken the flag off it and given it to her as a present. This was theft. I think they must have been drunk. This was not her flag. I am not into flags, I have no feeling for them and me. The Palestinian flag seems to me very foreign and very distant (it is not that far away physically from me at this moment). But it wants something from me. Something which I don’t know how to give and something that I am, no doubt, not capable of giving.