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And the resistance, I will be asked: Where is the resistance? Could it be that the heroes are gathering in the shoe factory or in the freight yard, at least a few? Is it possible that at the ghetto’s…
But who emptied your shoes of sandWhen you had to get up, to die?The sand which Israel gathered,Its nomad sand?Burning Sinai sand,Mingled with throats of nightingales,Mingled with wings of butterflies…
This print depicting the Jewish cemetery of Fürth, Germany, is from the beginning of the eighteenth century, a period of prosperity for the city’s Jewish community. There were between 350 and 400…
Café Sport is another scene. A scene, because that is where the artists and intellectuals go to be seen. Taking part is what matters, not winning. It is like sport, which is where the café got its…
At midnight a soft hand touched me: “Get up.” I stepped outside the silent sleeping barracks and saw: Azrael, the angel who reigns over the dead rushed down from the night firmament, all revenge…
On the day of Walter Rathenau’s funeral in 1922, all mail and telephone service in Germany was suspended between 2:00 and 2:10 pm
“If he won’t honor our invoice, I’ll simply give him a buzz. Put the…
[ . . . ] I have always felt it as a particular honor that a man of such outstanding importance as Theodor Herzl was the first to champion me publicly from his exposed and therefore responsible…
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening
we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night
we drink and we drink
we shovel a grave in the air there you won’t lie too cramped
A man lives in…
[…] I want to tell you about my brother’s ghost.
I had so looked forward to seeing him again: my Schorschi, my Czech brother, who had sent us a few postcards from Theresienstadt. But he wasn’t there…
This is November
Season of mills.
Wind of the black early morning services.
Cemetery
And thousandnightliness
Of the childish little candles,
And their fear.
Trudging now
Through the…