The Kirschbaum Lectures by Rogoff Seth

Author:Rogoff, Seth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sagging Meniscus Press
Published: 2023-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

We gathered in a nearby park, about one hundred of us. We were dressed in black, armed with pipes, knives, and hammers. A few of us had guns, some pistols, others, including myself, rifles from the war. The group from the north was charged with lighting the fire that would burn the place down. This group had already taken care of many similar jobs, purifying our streets of the Bolshevik infestation. D., the leader of the arsonist band, told us that they’d count on twenty minutes for us to secure the place against any Bolshevik resistance. We could take what we could carry after routing the communist defense, but after the whistle blew, we should get out of there as quickly as possible. After the whistle, we’d have five minutes to leave the theater before it started to go up in flames. He told us not to delay, to pay attention, because even if we didn’t see or feel the flames, the smoke would move fast, and the flames would be right behind it. When the plan was in place, we marched in silence to the street and two of the local boys busted open the door to the courtyard. The men swarmed into the space. We confronted a dozen men and women, subduing them quickly with blows with the pipes. No shots were fired. As we expected, we found the Jew director cowering by the theater’s safe, forced him to open it, and then cracked his skull. A few of the undisciplined southerners got into the kegs of beer, but even they cleared out as they were supposed to when the whistle came. We gathered, one hundred strong, in the courtyard to watch the purifying flames.

[Page 48]

“We’ll build this theater out of the ashes.” That’s what Tania said. God only knows what she meant when she said it. Which layer of ash of the many layers, for example, was she trying to sweep away?

[Page 49]

He asked my name. At that moment, Rosa Fuchsbein’s voice whispered in my head, quietly but steadily, repeating over and over, “Mila. Mila. Mila.” “Mila,” I said to him. He repeated, “Mila.” And I was named. I was called into this life. This one.

[Page 50]

Over and over, he read to me from the book of Amos. Why? Why Amos, this minor prophet, and not the big ones: Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Daniel?

[Page 51]

Two years after the earthquake . . .

[Page 52]

My head lifted above the water, first my nose, then lips, chin, and hair. The haze faded away and I could feel the traces of the water on my skin, first warming and pleasant, then cooling, giving way to an icy chill. My body started to shake terribly. I could hear the sound of my arm lifting out of the water in the tub. Then it came crashing down into the water with a splash. I didn’t have the strength to lift it again. I didn’t have the strength to lift my other arm, or a leg, no strength to raise my torso, to bend my neck.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.