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Pisherl woke up. He was delighted when, on coming into the workroom, he discovered I was there. He ran up and embraced me as if we hadn’t seen each other in years…
His strong, coal-black hands crumpling and twisting his faded old hat, the thirty-year-old Adoons said in a quiet but firm voice to his employer, Mr. Waldman, the produce dealer,
“Baas, I’m finishing…
For two months, enfolded from head to foot in crusted, freezing snow, we lay in the trenches on the Polish–Bolshevik front in White Russia. We lay about sleepily, suffering from fatigue, immobility…
It is barely six in the morning and the stars are still out, but Manuel has to get up.
It isn’t a job that wakes him. That obligation used to get him right to his feet, but now? Now just getting…