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Past Our Dancing Days by barnabus
Oct. 8th, 2012 10:44 pmA kitchen. MAN and WOMAN stand centre stage, in front of a counter with drawers. They are arguing as lights fade on.
WOMAN. Look. It’s called a double suicide pact for a reason. I kill myself, and then you kill yourself.
MAN. Why are we doing this again? Do I have to kill myself?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. I don’t like the smell of blood.
WOMAN. So what?
MAN. I don’t like iron either. Probably because iron smells like blood.
WOMAN. Shut up.
MAN. Don’t tell me to shut up.
WOMAN. When you shut up, I’ll stop telling you to shut up.
MAN. You shut up.
WOMAN. You’re stalling.
MAN. Am not.
WOMAN. Are too.
MAN. Am not!
WOMAN. Then do it.
MAN. You were going first.
WOMAN. It doesn’t matter who goes first. We’ll both be dead.
MAN. I’m hungry.
WOMAN. We just ate.
MAN. I can smell them cooking next door. I’m making a sandwich.
WOMAN. Take the knife!
MAN. That’s my good knife.
WOMAN. So?
MAN. I don’t want to ruin my good knife.
WOMAN. What does it matter?
MAN. It’s a matter of principle. Use one of the cheaper ones.
( read more )
WOMAN. Look. It’s called a double suicide pact for a reason. I kill myself, and then you kill yourself.
MAN. Why are we doing this again? Do I have to kill myself?
WOMAN. Yes.
MAN. I don’t like the smell of blood.
WOMAN. So what?
MAN. I don’t like iron either. Probably because iron smells like blood.
WOMAN. Shut up.
MAN. Don’t tell me to shut up.
WOMAN. When you shut up, I’ll stop telling you to shut up.
MAN. You shut up.
WOMAN. You’re stalling.
MAN. Am not.
WOMAN. Are too.
MAN. Am not!
WOMAN. Then do it.
MAN. You were going first.
WOMAN. It doesn’t matter who goes first. We’ll both be dead.
MAN. I’m hungry.
WOMAN. We just ate.
MAN. I can smell them cooking next door. I’m making a sandwich.
WOMAN. Take the knife!
MAN. That’s my good knife.
WOMAN. So?
MAN. I don’t want to ruin my good knife.
WOMAN. What does it matter?
MAN. It’s a matter of principle. Use one of the cheaper ones.
( read more )A young soldier tossed the nine volumes of The Book of Recurrent Dreams onto the bonfire of Jews, not noticing, in his haste to grab and destroy more, that one of the pages fell out of one of the books and descended, coming to rest like a veil on a child's burnt face:
9:613 -- The dream of the end of the world.
bombs poured down from the sky explod-
ing across trachimbrod in bursts of light
and heat those watching the festivities
hollered ran frantically they jumped into
the bubbling splashing frantically dy-
namic water not after the sack of gold
but to save themselves they stayed under as
long as they could they surfaced to seize
air and look for loved ones my safran
picked up his wife and carried her like
a newlywed into the water which seemed
amid the falling trees and hackling crack-
ling explosions the safest place hundreds
of bodies poured into the brod that river
with my name I embraced them with open
arms come to me come I wanted to save
them all to save everybody from every-
body the bombs rained from the sky and it
was not the explosions or scattering
shrapnel that would be our death not the
heckling cinders not the laughing debris
but all of the bodies bodies flailing and
grabbing hold of one another bodies look-
ing for something to hold on to my safran
lost sight of his wife who was carried
deeper into me by the pull of the bodies
the silent shrieks were carried in bub-
bles to the surface where they popped
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
the kicking in zosha's belly became more
and more PLEASE PLEASE the baby re-
fused to die like this PLEASE the bombs
came down cackling smoldering and my
safran was able to break free from the
human mass and float downstream over
the small falls to clearer waters zosha was
pulled down PLEASE and the baby refus-
ing to die like this was pulled up and out
of her body turning the waters around
her red she surfaced like a bubble to the
light to oxygen to life to life WAWAWA-
WAWAWA she cried she was perfectly
healthy and she would have lived except
for the umbilical cord that pulled her back
under toward her mother who was barely
conscious but conscious of the cord and
tried to break it with her hands and then
bite it with her teeth but could not
it would not be broken and she died with
her perfectly healthy nameless baby in her
arms she held it to her chest the crowd
pulled itself into itself long after the
bombing ceased the confused the fright-
ened the desperate mass of babies chil-
dren teenagers adults elderly all pulled
at each other to survive but pulled each
other into me drowning each other killing
each other the bodies began to rise one at
a time until I couldn't be seen through all
of the bodies blue skin open white eyes I
was invisible under them I was the carcass
they were the butterflies white eyes blue
skin this is what we've done we've killed
our own babies to save them
9:613 -- The dream of the end of the world.
bombs poured down from the sky explod-
ing across trachimbrod in bursts of light
and heat those watching the festivities
hollered ran frantically they jumped into
the bubbling splashing frantically dy-
namic water not after the sack of gold
but to save themselves they stayed under as
long as they could they surfaced to seize
air and look for loved ones my safran
picked up his wife and carried her like
a newlywed into the water which seemed
amid the falling trees and hackling crack-
ling explosions the safest place hundreds
of bodies poured into the brod that river
with my name I embraced them with open
arms come to me come I wanted to save
them all to save everybody from every-
body the bombs rained from the sky and it
was not the explosions or scattering
shrapnel that would be our death not the
heckling cinders not the laughing debris
but all of the bodies bodies flailing and
grabbing hold of one another bodies look-
ing for something to hold on to my safran
lost sight of his wife who was carried
deeper into me by the pull of the bodies
the silent shrieks were carried in bub-
bles to the surface where they popped
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
the kicking in zosha's belly became more
and more PLEASE PLEASE the baby re-
fused to die like this PLEASE the bombs
came down cackling smoldering and my
safran was able to break free from the
human mass and float downstream over
the small falls to clearer waters zosha was
pulled down PLEASE and the baby refus-
ing to die like this was pulled up and out
of her body turning the waters around
her red she surfaced like a bubble to the
light to oxygen to life to life WAWAWA-
WAWAWA she cried she was perfectly
healthy and she would have lived except
for the umbilical cord that pulled her back
under toward her mother who was barely
conscious but conscious of the cord and
tried to break it with her hands and then
bite it with her teeth but could not
it would not be broken and she died with
her perfectly healthy nameless baby in her
arms she held it to her chest the crowd
pulled itself into itself long after the
bombing ceased the confused the fright-
ened the desperate mass of babies chil-
dren teenagers adults elderly all pulled
at each other to survive but pulled each
other into me drowning each other killing
each other the bodies began to rise one at
a time until I couldn't be seen through all
of the bodies blue skin open white eyes I
was invisible under them I was the carcass
they were the butterflies white eyes blue
skin this is what we've done we've killed
our own babies to save them
4:512 -- The dream of sex without pain. I
dreamt four nights ago of clock hands de-
scending from the universe like rain, of
the moon as a green eye, of mirrors and
insects, of a love that never withdrew. It
was not the feeling of completeness that I
so needed, but the feeling of not being
empty. This dream ended when I felt
my husband enter me. 4:513 -- The dream of
angels dreaming of men. It was during an
afternoon nap that I dreamt of a ladder.
Angels were sleepwalking up and down
the runs their eyes closed, their breath
heavy and dull, their wings hanging limp
at the sides. I bumped into an old angel as
I passed him, waking and startling him.
He looked like my grandfather did before
he passed away last year, when he would
pray each night to die in his sleep. Oh,
the angel said to me, I was just dreaming
of you. 4:514 -- The dream of, as silly as it
sounds, flight. 4:515 -- The dream of the
waltz of feast, famine and feast. 4:516 -- The
dream of disembodied birds (46). I'm not
sure if you would consider this a dream or
a memory, because it actually happened,
but when I fall asleep I see the room
in which I mounred the death of my son.
For those of you who were there, you will
remember how we sat without speaking,
eating only as much as we had to. you will
remember when a bird crashed through
the window and fell to the floor. You will
remember, those of you who were there,
how it jerked its wings before dying, and
left a spot of blood on the floor after it
was removed. But who among you was
first to notice the negative bird it left in
the window? Who first saw the shadow
that the bird left behind, the shadow that
drew blood from any finger that dared to
trace it, the shadow that was better proof
of the bird's existence than the bird ever
was? Who was with me when I mourned
the death of my son, when I excused my-
self to bury that bird with my own hands?
4:517 -- The dream of falling in love, mar-
riage, death, love. This dream seems as if it
lasts for hours, although it always takes
place in the five minutes between my re-
turning from the field and being woken
for dinner. I dream of when I met my
wife, fifty years ago, and it's exactly as it
happened. I dream of our marriage, and I
can even see my father's tears of pride. It's
all there just as it was. But then I dream
of my own death, which I have heard is
impossible to do, but you must believe
me. I dream of my wife telling me on my
deathbed that she loves me, and even
though she thinks I can't hear her, I can,
and she says she wouldn't have changed
anything. It feels like a moment I've
lived a thousand times before, as if everything
is familiar, right up to the moment of my
death, that it will happen again an infinite
number of times, that we will meet,
marry, have our children, succeed in the
ways we have, fail in the ways we have, all
exactly the same, always unable to change
a thing. I am again at the bottom of an
unstoppable wheel, and when I feel my
eyes close for death, as they have and will
a thousand times, I awake. 4:518 -- The
dream of perpetual motion. 4:519 -- The
dream of low windows. 4:520 -- The dream of
safety and peace. I dreamt that I was born
from a stranger's body. She gave birth to
me in a secret dwelling, far away from ev-
erything that I would grow to know. Im-
mediately after I was born, she handed
me to my mother, for the sake of appear-
ances, and my mother said, Thank you.
You have given me a son, the gift of life.
And for this reason, because I was of a
stranger's body, I did not fear the body of
my mother, and I could embrace it with-
out shame, with only love. Because I was
not from my mother's body, my desire to
go home never led back to her, and I was
free to say Mother, and mean only
Mother. 4:521 -- The dream of disembodied
birds (47). It's dusk in this dream that I
have every night, and I'm making love to
my wife, my real wife, I mean, to whom
I've been married for thirty years, and
you all know how I love her, I love her so
much. I massage her thighs in my hands,
and I move my hands up her waist and
belly, and touch her breasts. My wife is
such a beautiful woman, you all know
that, and in the dream she's the same, just
as beautiful. I look down at my hands on
her breasts--callused, worn things, a
man's hands, veiny, shaky, fluttering--
and I remember, I don't know why, but
it's this way every night, I remember two
white birds that my mother brought back
for me from Warsaw when I was only a
child. We let them fly around the house
and perch wherever they wanted to. I re-
member seeing my mother's back as she
cooked eggs for me, and I remember the
birds perching on her shoulders, with
their beaks up next to her ears, as if they
were about to tell her a secret. She
reached her right hand up into the cup-
board, searching without looking for
some spice on a high shelf, grasping at
something elusive, fluttering, not letting
my food burn. 4:522 -- The dream of meet-
ing your younger self. 4:523 -- The dream of
animals, two by two. 4:524 -- The dream of I
won't be ashamed. 4:525 -- The dream that
we are our fathers. I walked to the Brod,
without knowing why, and looked into
my reflection in the water. I couldn't look
away. What was the image that pulled me
in after it? What was it that I loved? And
then I recognized it. so simple. In the
water I saw my father's face, and that face
saw the face of its father, and so on, and so
on, reflecting backward to the beginning
of time, to the face of God, in whose
image we were created. We burned with
love for ourselves, all of us, starters of
the fire we suffered--our love was the af-
fliction for which only our love was the cure...
dreamt four nights ago of clock hands de-
scending from the universe like rain, of
the moon as a green eye, of mirrors and
insects, of a love that never withdrew. It
was not the feeling of completeness that I
so needed, but the feeling of not being
empty. This dream ended when I felt
my husband enter me. 4:513 -- The dream of
angels dreaming of men. It was during an
afternoon nap that I dreamt of a ladder.
Angels were sleepwalking up and down
the runs their eyes closed, their breath
heavy and dull, their wings hanging limp
at the sides. I bumped into an old angel as
I passed him, waking and startling him.
He looked like my grandfather did before
he passed away last year, when he would
pray each night to die in his sleep. Oh,
the angel said to me, I was just dreaming
of you. 4:514 -- The dream of, as silly as it
sounds, flight. 4:515 -- The dream of the
waltz of feast, famine and feast. 4:516 -- The
dream of disembodied birds (46). I'm not
sure if you would consider this a dream or
a memory, because it actually happened,
but when I fall asleep I see the room
in which I mounred the death of my son.
For those of you who were there, you will
remember how we sat without speaking,
eating only as much as we had to. you will
remember when a bird crashed through
the window and fell to the floor. You will
remember, those of you who were there,
how it jerked its wings before dying, and
left a spot of blood on the floor after it
was removed. But who among you was
first to notice the negative bird it left in
the window? Who first saw the shadow
that the bird left behind, the shadow that
drew blood from any finger that dared to
trace it, the shadow that was better proof
of the bird's existence than the bird ever
was? Who was with me when I mourned
the death of my son, when I excused my-
self to bury that bird with my own hands?
4:517 -- The dream of falling in love, mar-
riage, death, love. This dream seems as if it
lasts for hours, although it always takes
place in the five minutes between my re-
turning from the field and being woken
for dinner. I dream of when I met my
wife, fifty years ago, and it's exactly as it
happened. I dream of our marriage, and I
can even see my father's tears of pride. It's
all there just as it was. But then I dream
of my own death, which I have heard is
impossible to do, but you must believe
me. I dream of my wife telling me on my
deathbed that she loves me, and even
though she thinks I can't hear her, I can,
and she says she wouldn't have changed
anything. It feels like a moment I've
lived a thousand times before, as if everything
is familiar, right up to the moment of my
death, that it will happen again an infinite
number of times, that we will meet,
marry, have our children, succeed in the
ways we have, fail in the ways we have, all
exactly the same, always unable to change
a thing. I am again at the bottom of an
unstoppable wheel, and when I feel my
eyes close for death, as they have and will
a thousand times, I awake. 4:518 -- The
dream of perpetual motion. 4:519 -- The
dream of low windows. 4:520 -- The dream of
safety and peace. I dreamt that I was born
from a stranger's body. She gave birth to
me in a secret dwelling, far away from ev-
erything that I would grow to know. Im-
mediately after I was born, she handed
me to my mother, for the sake of appear-
ances, and my mother said, Thank you.
You have given me a son, the gift of life.
And for this reason, because I was of a
stranger's body, I did not fear the body of
my mother, and I could embrace it with-
out shame, with only love. Because I was
not from my mother's body, my desire to
go home never led back to her, and I was
free to say Mother, and mean only
Mother. 4:521 -- The dream of disembodied
birds (47). It's dusk in this dream that I
have every night, and I'm making love to
my wife, my real wife, I mean, to whom
I've been married for thirty years, and
you all know how I love her, I love her so
much. I massage her thighs in my hands,
and I move my hands up her waist and
belly, and touch her breasts. My wife is
such a beautiful woman, you all know
that, and in the dream she's the same, just
as beautiful. I look down at my hands on
her breasts--callused, worn things, a
man's hands, veiny, shaky, fluttering--
and I remember, I don't know why, but
it's this way every night, I remember two
white birds that my mother brought back
for me from Warsaw when I was only a
child. We let them fly around the house
and perch wherever they wanted to. I re-
member seeing my mother's back as she
cooked eggs for me, and I remember the
birds perching on her shoulders, with
their beaks up next to her ears, as if they
were about to tell her a secret. She
reached her right hand up into the cup-
board, searching without looking for
some spice on a high shelf, grasping at
something elusive, fluttering, not letting
my food burn. 4:522 -- The dream of meet-
ing your younger self. 4:523 -- The dream of
animals, two by two. 4:524 -- The dream of I
won't be ashamed. 4:525 -- The dream that
we are our fathers. I walked to the Brod,
without knowing why, and looked into
my reflection in the water. I couldn't look
away. What was the image that pulled me
in after it? What was it that I loved? And
then I recognized it. so simple. In the
water I saw my father's face, and that face
saw the face of its father, and so on, and so
on, reflecting backward to the beginning
of time, to the face of God, in whose
image we were created. We burned with
love for ourselves, all of us, starters of
the fire we suffered--our love was the af-
fliction for which only our love was the cure...
(Do you remember what he did next, Jonathan? He examined the photograph again, and then placed it on the table again, and then he said, Herschel was a good pesron, and so was I, and because of this it is not right what happened, not anything of it. And then I asked him, What, what happened? He returned the photograph to the box, you will remember, and he told us the story. Exactly like that. He placed the photograph in the box, and he told it to us. He did not once avoid our eyes, and he did not once put his hands under the table. I murdered Herschel, he said. Or what I did was as good as murdering him. What do you mean? I asked him, because what he said was such a potent thing to say. No, this is not true. Herschel would have been murdered with or without me, but it is still as if I murdered him. What happened? I asked. They came in the most darkest time of the night. They had just come from another town, and would go to another after. They knew what they were doing, they were so logical. I remember with very much precision the feeling of my bed shaking when the tanks came. What is it? What is it? Grandmother asked. I moved from bed, and I examined out of the window. What did you see? I saw four tanks, and I can remember them in every aspect. There were four green tanks, and men walking along the sides of them. These men had guns, I will tell you, and they were pointing them at our doors and windows in case that someone should try to run. It was dark but I could still see this. Were you scared? I was scared, although I knew that I was not the one they wanted. How did you know? We knew about them. Everyone knew. Herschel knew. We did not think it would happen to us. I told you, we believed in things, we were so foolish. And then? And then I told Grandmother to get the baby, your father, and to take him into the cellar and not to manufacture any noise but also not to become overly afraid because we were not the ones they wanted. And then? And then they stopped all of the tanks and for a moment I was so foolish to think that it was over, that they had decided to return to Germany and end the war because nobody likes war not even those who survive it, not even the winners. But? But they did not of course they had only stopped the tanks in front of the synagogue and they came out of their tanks and moved into very logical lines. The General who had blond hair put a microphone to his face and spoke in Ukrainian he said that everyone must come to the synagogue everyone with no omissions. The soldiers punched on every door with their guns and investigated the houses to be certain that everyone should be in front of the synagogue I told Grandmother to return upstairs with the baby because I feared that they would discover them in the basement and shoot them because of their hiding. Herschel I thought Herschel must escape how can he escape he must run now run into the darkness perhaps he has already run perhaps he heard the tanks and ran but when we arrived at the synagogue I saw Herschel and he saw me and we stood next to each other because that is what friends do in the presence of evil or love. What is going to happen he asked me and I told him I do not know what is going to happen and the truth is that not one of us knew what was going to happen although every one of us knew that it would be evil. It captured for so long the soldiers to finish their investigating of the houses it was very important to them to be certain that everyone was in front of the synagogue. I am so scared Herschel said I think I am going to cry. Why I asked why there is nothing to cry for there is no reason to cry but I will tell you that I too wanted to cry and I was too afraid but not for myself for Grandmother and for the baby. What did they do? What happened next? They made us stand in lines and I was next to Anna on the one side and Herschel on the other side some of the women were crying and this was because they were very afraid of the guns that the soldiers were holding they thought that all of us were going to be killed. The General with blue eyes put the microphone to his face. You must listen carefully he said and do everything that is commanded or you will be shot. Herschel whispered to me I am very scared and I wanted to tell him run your chances are better if you run it is dark run you have no chances if you do not but I could not tell him this because I was afraid I would be shot for speaking and I was also afraid of yielding to Herschel's death by admitting it be brave I said with as little volume as I could manufacture it is necessary that you be brave which I know now was such a stupid thing to utter the stupidest I have ever uttered be brave for what? Who is the rabbi the General asked and the rabbi elevated his hand. Two of the guards seized the rabbi and pushed him into the synagogue. Who is the cantor the General asked and the cantor elevated his hand but he was not so quiet about death as the rabbi he was crying and saying no to his wife no no nonono and she lifted her hand to him and the two guards sized her and put her in the synagogue also. Who are the Jews the General asked into his microphone all the Jews move forward but not one person moved forward. All of the Jews must move forward he said again and this time he shouted it but again not one person moved forward and I will tell you that if I were a Jew I would also not move forward the General went to the first line and he said into his microphone you will point out a Jew or you will be considered a Jew the first person he went to was a Jew named Abraham. Who is a Jew the General asked him and Abraham trembled Who is a Jew the General asked again and he put his gun to Abraham's head Aaron is a Jew Aaron and he pointed to Aaron who was in the second row which is where we were standing. Two guards sized Aaron and he was resisting very much so they shot him in the head and this is when I felt Herschel's hand touch mine. Do as you are commanded the General with a scar on his face shouted into his microphone or. He went to the second person in the line who was a friend of mine Leo and he said who is a Jew and Leo pointed to Abraham and he said that man is a Jew I am sorry Abraham two guards secured Abraham into the synagogue a woman in the fourth row tried to run away with her baby in her arms but the General shouted something in German that most terrible horrible ugly disgusting vile monstrous language and one of the guards shot her in the back of the head and they pulled her and her baby who was still alive into the synagogue. The General went to the next man in line and the next and everyone was pointing at a Jew because nobody wanted to be killed one Jew pointed at his cousin and one pointed at himself because he would not point at another. They secured Daniel into the synagogue and also Talia and Louis and every Jew there was but for some reason that I will never know Herschel was never pointed to perhaps this is because I was his only friend and he was not so social and many people did not even know he existed I was the only one who would know to point at him or perhaps it was because it was so dark that he could not be seen anymore. It was not forever before he was the only Jew remaining outside of the synagogue the General was now in the second row and said to a man because he only asked men I do not know why who is a Jew and the man said they are all in the synagogue because he did not know Herschel or did not know that Herschel was a Jew the General shotthismaninthehead and I could feel Herschel's hand touching mine very lightly and I made certain not to look at him the General went to the next person who is a Jew he asked and this person said they are all in the synagogue you must believe me I am not lying why would I lie you can kill them all I do not care but please spare me please do not kill me please and then the General shothiminthehead and I said I am becoming tired of this and he went to the next man in line and that was me who is a Jew he asked and I felt Herschel's hand again and I know that his hand was saying pleaseplease Eli please I do not want to die please do not point at me you know what is going to happen to me if you point at me do not point at me I am afraid of dying I am so afraid of dying I am soafraidofdying Iamsoafraidofdying who is a Jew the General asked me again and I felt on my other hand the hand of Grandmother and I knew that she was holding your father and that he was holding you and that you were holding your children I am so afraid of dying I am soafraidofdying Iamsoafraidofdying Iamsoafraidofdying and I said he is a Jew who is a Jew the General asked and Herschel embraced my hand with much strength and he was my friend he was my best friend I would have let him kiss Anna and even make love to her but I am I and my wife is my wife and my baby is my baby do you understand what I am telling you I pointed at Herschel and said he a Jew this man is a Jew please Herschel said to me and he was crying tell them it is nottrue please Eli please two guards seized him and he did not resist but he did cry more and harder and he shouted tell them that there are no more Jews nomoreJews and you only said that I was a Jew so that you would not be killed I am begging you Eli youaremyfriend do not let me die I am so afraid of dying Iamsoafraid it will be OK I told him it will be OK do not do this he said do something do something dosomething dosoething it will be OK it willbeOK who was I saying that to do something Eli dosomething I am soafraidofdying I am soafraid you know what they are going to do youaremyfriend I told him although I do not know why I said that at the moment and the guards put him in the synagogue with the rest of the Jews and everyone else was remaining outside to hear thecryingofthebabies and thecryingoftheadults and to see the black spark when the first match was lit by a youngman who could not have been any older than I was or Herschel was or you are it illuminated those who were not in the synagogue those who were not going to die and he cast it on the branches that were pushed against the synagogue what made it so awful was how it was soslow and how the fire made itself deadmanytimes and had to be remade I looked at Grandmother and shekissedmeontheforehead and I kissedheronthemouth and our tearsmixedonourlips and then I kissedyourfather many times I secured him from Grandmother's arms and Iheldhimwithsomuchforce so much that he started crying I said I love you I love you I love you I love you I loveyou I loveyou IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou and I knew that I had to change everything to leave everything behind and I knew that I could never allow him to learn of whoIwas or whatIdid because it was for him that IdidwhatIdid it was for him that I pointed and for him that Herschel was murdered that I murdered Herschel and this is why he is how he is he is how is he because a father is always responsible for his son and I am I and Iamresponsible not for Herschel but for my son because I held him with somuchforcethathecried because I loved him so much that I madeloveimpossible and I am sorry for you and sorry for Iggy and it is you who must forgive me he said these things to us and Jonathan where do we go now what do we do with what we know Grandfather said that I am I but this could not be true the truth is that I also pointedatHershcle and I also said heisaJew and I will tell you that you alsopointedatHerschel and you also said heisaJew and more that that Grandfather also pointedatme and said heisaJew and you also pointedathim and said heisaJew and your frandmother and Little Igor and we all pointedateachother so what is it he should have done hewouldhavebeenafooltodoanythingelse but is it forgivable what he did canheeverbeforgiven for his finger for whatthisfingerdid for whathepointed to and didnotpointto for whathetouchedinhislife and whathedidnottouch he is stillguilty I am I am Iam IamI?)
"And now," he said, "we must make sleep."
"And now," he said, "we must make sleep."
But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.
By the time she caught up, Michael was stalking the star with soft steps, both arms out to catch it. Sophie could see him outlined against the star's light. The start was drifting level with Michael's hands and only a step or so beyond. It was looking back at him nervously. How odd! Sophie thought. It was made of light, it lit up a white ring of grass, and reeds and black pools around Michael, and yet it had big, anxious eyes peering backward at Michael, and a small, pointed face.
Sophie's arrival frightened it. It gave an erratic swoop and cried out in a shrill, crackling voice, "What is it? What do you want?"
Sophie tried to say to Michael, Do stop--it's terrified! But she had no breath left to speak with.
"I only want to catch you," Michael explained. "I won't hurt you."
"No! No!" The star crackled desperately. "That's wrong! I'm supposed to die!"
"But I could save you if you'd let me catch you," Michael told it gently.
"No!" cried the star. "I'd rather die!" It dived away from Michael's fingers. Michael plunged for it, but it was too quick for him. It swooped for the nearest marsh pool, and the black water leaped into a blaze of whiteness for just an instant. Then there was a small, dying sizzle. When Sophie hobbled over, Michael was standing watching the last light fade out of a little round lump under the dark water.
"That was sad," Sophie said.
Michael sighed. "Yes. My heart sort of went out to it. Let's go home. I'm sick of this spell."
Sophie's arrival frightened it. It gave an erratic swoop and cried out in a shrill, crackling voice, "What is it? What do you want?"
Sophie tried to say to Michael, Do stop--it's terrified! But she had no breath left to speak with.
"I only want to catch you," Michael explained. "I won't hurt you."
"No! No!" The star crackled desperately. "That's wrong! I'm supposed to die!"
"But I could save you if you'd let me catch you," Michael told it gently.
"No!" cried the star. "I'd rather die!" It dived away from Michael's fingers. Michael plunged for it, but it was too quick for him. It swooped for the nearest marsh pool, and the black water leaped into a blaze of whiteness for just an instant. Then there was a small, dying sizzle. When Sophie hobbled over, Michael was standing watching the last light fade out of a little round lump under the dark water.
"That was sad," Sophie said.
Michael sighed. "Yes. My heart sort of went out to it. Let's go home. I'm sick of this spell."
Franz Kafka is dead. He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. "Come down!" they cried to him. "Come down! Come down!" Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. "I can't," he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. "Why?" they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. "Because then you’ll stop asking for me."
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Nov. 8th, 2010 08:41 pmDuring the war, a soldier faithfully wrote his mother every week so she would know he was all right. One week, she didn't get a letter and immediately began to worry. Within a couple of weeks she got a letter from the Army saying that her son had been captured and was being held in a camp, but they assured her that they had no reason to believe the American prisoners were being mistreated in any way. A few weeks later the woman finally received another letter from her son: "Dear Mom, try not to worry about me, they are treating us well and I'll be released as soon as the war is over. Make sure that little Teddy gets the stamp for his collection. Love you, Joe." The woman was overjoyed to hear the news, but was confused because she had no idea who 'little Teddy' was. She decided to steam the stamp from the envelope and have a look. Written on the back of the stamp were the words: "They've cut off my legs."
