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Opposite the windowsill is a shuttered curtain and a wasteland of chimneys. The street is being drained of life. A double-decker bus with gleaming windows of light passes by the corner. A woman pushes…
After I published my son’s literary estate in a book, I still had a few scraps of writing and documents of various kinds that I didn’t know how to put together with everything that seemed clear and…
This small volume which I now present to you, my fellow readers, is an offshoot of the numerous saplings that I have planted for myself over the course of many days, nay years; for ever…
After finishing the letter, Elisheva handed it back to Hogeh and gracefully added: “Would that letters such as this might appear more often in our literature! For only such refinement of language will…