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Good night, wide world.
Big, stinking world.
Not you, but I, slam the gate.
In my long robe,
With my flaming, yellow patch,
With my proud gait,
At my own command—
I return to the ghetto.
Wipe out…
I thought of the beautiful angel in the picture that had hung over our bed before the war. Her giant wings hovering over, almost enveloping two children crossing a bridge over a ravine. Please make my…
At the end of the workday, the children were allowed to visit their parents and relatives for one hour. Sometimes there were longer visits on Saturday afternoons and Sundays. But there were no visits…
Yom Kippur, when the narrow alleys of the shulhoyf
cradle the small shtibls, pious and scared,
householders hurry with their taleisim
and old men shuffle along in their socks—
I feel the narrow…
The case of Kafka, the acculturated Jew, shows how a man may feel his way into a body of collective history through his very consciousness of being outside it: Kafka brooded over the experience of the…