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[…] I want to tell you about my brother’s ghost.
I had so looked forward to seeing him again: my Schorschi, my Czech brother, who had sent us a few postcards from Theresienstadt. But he wasn’t there…
As I was crossing Alexanderplatz on the first of April, I noticed a crowd of people gathering near the U-Bahn station at the other end of the square. The loudspeakers blared across the open space,…
On the eve of the New Year I found myself with a new career before me. What kind of career? “I don’t know”—the American’s customary reply to every difficult question. . . . I was in New York, trying…