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In the last week of her pregnancy, my mother,
who had been wishing for a girl, saw the words
Studio Ronny emboldened on a photo studio sign.
‘If I do have a boy after all,’ she thought to herself,
then the name Ronny would suit him ever so much.
Works in Arabic (we had lived in Baghdad)
Works in Hebrew (we are Babylonian exiles)
Works in English (we’d been subjects of
King George VI).
My father was born Abdallah and rechristened Abner,
My grandfather was born Salah and would not become Zvi
whereas my mother, Daisy, was born to put down roots
in every Flora.
What luck she didn’t name me
Studio.
Translated from Hebrew by Eran Edry