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By Jayne Cohen
Published 2008
“The pineapple groans under her sharp knife like a live fish. Its juice, like white blood, trickles onto my fingers. I lick them. It is a tart-sweet taste. Is this the taste of the New Year?”
—Bella Chagall,
Burning Lights
1 and 2 Tishri (September or October)
“Some of the townspeople stood on the wooden bridge reciting the ‘tashlikh’; others lined the river banks. Young women took out their handkerchiefs and shook out their sins. Boys playfully emptied their pockets to be sure no transgressions remained.”
—Isaac Bashevis Singer, “
Tashlikh ”
