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However modestly my parents lived in the country, however little I was used to luxury and every comfort, at least at home I was used to cleanliness and order…
[ . . . ]
I never loved properly . . .
A little Judaic boy,
I was the only one around
To shiver in the steppe wind at night.
Like a sleepwalker, I walked along tram tracks
To silent summer cottages…
He and I rarely spoke of God. He didn’t want to listen to another one of my blasphemous speeches, and I knew it was like talking to a brick wall—you could never convince him of anything.
But once—by…