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Amid breathtaking bougainvilleas
I while away my time
One floor up Emilia’s
Flimsy lingerie is hanging on a line
Tiny hummingbirds hover
Around a wistful rose
A mouse caught in a saucer
Watch where…
This episode occurred on Deribasov Street, about two years after the beginning of our story.
At that time our editorial office was located at the upper end of the street, in the…
The shtetl, lost here among Polish fields and groves, might be called Turek or Przasnysz, Konin or Maków, yet what one remembers is not the name but the old marketplace reeking of tar and dung where a…
You, my dear, will survive me and remember.
How could it be otherwise?
—From a letter
Old people? What can you write about old people?
They barely feel anything!
—From a conversation
From Kiev I took a wagon heading for Zhitomir. Few of my readers will still remember the long coach wagons in which the past generation traveled before the railroads…
Avigdor walked beyond the city limits of Tel Aviv into the endless stretch of sand. He had never seen such sand. He walked among the sand dunes, as in a forest, seeing nothing except the glaring sands…
This is how things go with your average Jew. But Hershele is not your average Jew. It wasn’t by chance that he was famous in all of Ostropol, in all of Berdichev, and in all of Vilyuisk.
Hershele…