How to show the long bus ride began in the dark to visit the husband in jail? The repetition which is new every morning. The feeling of seeing him. The company of others who are like and unlike? Her newly digital speech is broken and slowly restitched. The trial of rejoining the wounds of language and family. And at last, the unnamed citizens can be granted again a title: Palestine. We must be in Palestine.

“The slowness of the stutter emphasizes that idea of the 'boundary of language.' Where does the word need to end to understand all the context and feeling of that short statement? You always remind me that if we just slow down, there is so much to see and hear in the words and images we come across. Her 'I miss you,' although obviously the subtext, strikes very powerfully after I was hanging on the edge of her words for seven minutes. How many visits has she made, every two weeks? How long does she travel? Are those visits the central part of her weeks? The build-up of questions, after the focus of the first section, and the slow displaying of the images in the latter half, invites a more attentive looking at the images of forced travel, the children and the checkpoint - to crystallize the questions of trying to understand the disastrous consequences of occupation.” Aaron Rotenberg