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You won’t find the restaurant in the guidebooks, which is a pity. The owner—he was tall and wearing a sport jacket—greeted us at the door. Our table was waiting in the corner.
“And the food is quite…
[ . . . ] In time, I lost my shyness. I became a “big shot” in one of the Am Olam groups. In our debates it became clear to me that it was still a beautiful idea to start colonies in which we…
Our house was gloomy—one reason why, since childhood, I have preferred the street to the home.
One cause of this gloom was the Torah…
There were two reasons why Di Yunge chose to carry on by themselves in a separate cafe. One was purely financial. The coffeehouse on Division Street was too dear for young writers, most of whom either…
Nighttime at the home of I. L. Peretz, and Shimon (aka Bernard) Kratko appears like a vision. Who masterminded an audience with Peretz, I can’t tell you, but it was all that mattered now, as if…