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A calm summer night. On the horizon loom, very black, the famous woods on the tree trunks of which our ancestors are said to have carved a record of the tractates of the Talmud they had…
Not fire and sun—but our blood will redden, Oh Zion, your mountains—
Right after disembarking and finishing my business with the numruk [custom house], I hurried to Petah Tikva. My friends implored…