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The morning of the third day, Tsiporah tried to distract Noémi.
“Have you read this article?” she asked, handing her Maariv.
Noémi finished her nth cigarette, then placed the butt on the already…
Rue Sainte-Catherine, people turned as we passed. Probably because of my father’s purple suit, his Kentucky green shirt and the same old shoes with the astrakhan spats. I fondly…
Adèle sometimes used to take me to church in Montrouge, where I made the same gestures as she did…gestures which didn’t seem to me to be very different from those required by pure politeness…the hand…
I wasn’t a very political adolescent. I had grown up surrounded by unexplained cautions, by ellipses, and all these silences had sealed off the public world, so that I didn’t really believe in it…