I woke up New Year's day in the suburbs of a foggy city to the tinkling of some green glass fish made from what I had often described as my faveourite place in the West Bank.
The Hebron glass factory, from my first visit in 2006, has been a place of magical beauty, sparkling craftsmanship, and understated wonder. Better than Santa, it exists even though it seems somehow impossible. And best of all, it proves that the fragile has way more staying power that its given credit for. Beauty persists.
