You Can Be the Last LeafMaya Abu Al Hayyat, translation Fady Joudah Art. Garlic. Taxis. Sleepy soldiers at checkpoints. The smell of trash on a winter street, before our wild rosebush, neglected by the gate, blooms. Lovers who dont return, the possibility that you yourself might not return. Making beds. Cleaning up vomit. Reading recipes. In You Can Be the Last Leaf, these are the ordinary and profoundsometimes tragic, sometimes dreamy, sometimes almost frivolousmoments of