Polirom

excerptTHE CREATION WORK (1715) When he spoke to Aaron Juda Hartman, the rabbi from Spain, the one who had diplomas from Paris and Tripoli, driven to Peloponnesus to look after his poor relatives but also to take care, unimpeded by anyone, in a dusty room heated by the

Chapter SixIt's barely after midnight. Door number 415 opens. I get out and the door remains unlocked, wide open even, behind me. There is no one at this late hour to hear me and even if it were, why should I be afraid when I look like a leaving visitor, and not like

excerpt 02/01/1980I am reading something by W. Faulkner, which lives among dusty shelves, with a tidy certitude; that certitude divorced reality a long time ago, quietly depleting, like a breeze of air when it sees injustice taking hold… and I now believe that this is

excerpt I carefully studied him. It seemed to me that he was shaking. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes bright and his face was fresh and clean like a baby's. Why are you looking at me like this!?My, how you've grown, Raresh!You have such beautiful eyes! I've

11. PattayaIt was a national holiday in Thailand, on the occasion of a Buddhist festival: floating floral arrangements with lit candles, representing the souls of the dead, were cast into the rivers. Universities had a few days off, so I took some myself and went to the

He went out of the smoky-glass building without looking back. He was treading slowly, looking at the tips of his impeccably polished Timberland shoes. He hadn't even managed to answer the porter, who may have wished him well, smiling as in a dental-floss commercial.

Bertrand had descended on our little town as if from a film: long-haired, with a beard that was still fluffy but nevertheless impressive in comparison with our teenage fuzz, and dressed in a T-shirt with Che Guevara on it. Besides, he was smoking Gauloises and was an anarchist.

excerpts The house of Maria Dragases is a small palace rising next to the western wall of the city, and from its orange-tree garden one can see the sea. The sun is now above the garden, its light has the color of a lime, and so is the light reflected by the fruit in the

excerpts 155th of March 1946I wasn't planning on writing to you. I thought I was going to write Physics papers. But the paper was white and I kept thinking about you. I was thinking of you and I felt happy. This flatters me. And saddens me at the same time. I thought

The book about fleshexcerpt I absolutely have to tell you in detail everything that happened in my wedding bed, on which we lay down as though on an operating table, Ferdinand Sinidis grumpily intervened. I really want to stick to the subject, although it might seem that

excerpt 'I can hardly understand what you're saying, your words make my hair stand on end. . . What do you want, actually?' Masha could hardly contain herself. This talk raised her suspicions. The visitor's look could very well be deceitful. Whoever

In 1962, Andi Schönfeld was a 16-year old, 1. 70 m tall, discretely freckled Jew with dark brown hair. All in all, he was rather lubberly, but with a crazy zest for life. But that story was one I only found out later. His father had been sentenced to death for espionage