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Listen, Jewish children, and I will tell you a story about a penknife. It’s not a made-up story, but a true story that really happened to me. There was nothing on earth I yearned for as much as I…
The rinsed fences dry themselves in the wind.
The kneaded black earth turns softer under my feet.
Soaked soil, tousled and wanton wind,
What more can I want from you today?
It seems to me that I’ve…