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Usually there's silence in a café, but sometimes a wave of speech will surge up, flooding the listener with painful things that have been mostly kept down, things buried deep in the soul for many years that have at last
found an opening and emerged in words.

— Dec 19, 2025 08:13AM

A Table for One: Under the Light of Jerusalem

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Helga is on page 30 of 142

My mother tongue was German. My grandparents spoke Yiddish. We lived among Ruthenian peasants and so we spoke Ruthenian. The government was Romanian, so we spoke Romanian. The intelligentsia often spoke French, so we spoke French. After the war I was with the Russians and I learned to speak Russian.

— Dec 22, 2025 09:20PM