Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Judeophile

each time you still flinch upon hearing this fateful word. Oo... I caught on to the most subtle shadings of pronunciation and immediately understood what exactly they had in mind when they said “Jew,” or “Jew- ish,” or “JewIsh,” or “Hebrew,” skimming over it as though trying to dodge through a danger zone. And in this sense, it seemed that this man was without any complexes, it’s just that everyone has his own broken record. When we had first met and were escaping together into the metro, I was certain that he was a Jew. Who else would be collecting “Judaica”? But when I saw him in his regalia then, naturally, I began to doubt myself. Now, my doubts were confirmed. “And you yourself wouldn’t be a member of the tribe?” Even Lena was taken aback (as I was later persuaded, this did not happen to her often) and, rising from her seat, she went off into the kitchen for the teapot, leaving me alone with this suddenly disinhibited and likely feisty old man. “About as authentic as they come,” I replied, involuntarily imitating his mocking tone. He nodded his head, as though confirming his hunch, and repeated: “And I was always mistaken for a Jew in the Academy. But not in the Army, in the Academy, yes. And a secret one besides!”

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