Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Judeophile

what it was that made me so appealing? I had an urge to sing, to dance and, for all those days, I did sing and dance, spinning in front of the mirror, so that my father even asked me: “So you’ve fallen in love, eh? Make sure you don’t bring home a shiksa”. I went to visit her on the evening of the following day. She was not at home. Vera Petrovna said that she had gone over to her girlfriend’s to study. On the next day, she was still not home. This time, Pyotr Naumovich opened the door. I asked him to give Lena the message that I had come by. “Come on in,” he said. I said it was impossible today, but that I would definitely swing by later in the week. I didn’t want to, in a roundabout way, “get in her face”. Especially since she hadn’t called. I got offended. I called after another two days, worried now. Something was off here. Yes, sure, her defense is around the corner, but there was no reason we couldn’t talk on the phone... Pyotr Naumovich picked up the telephone. I noticed it the previous time too, that his voice was somehow... well, like he felt guilty before me, and this time, he was also not as affable as usual, even insincere: “She’s not here. She’s still busy... with her diploma work.…” I went to her defense, saw her from a distance, amid an excited throng of diploma candidates. Pretending to be just passing through, I waved my hand to her, she noticed me and gave me a friendly smile. I yelled: “Break

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