The Writers Voice
It was pouring down, and Paul was drenched to the skin. He spent the last day in
his office room. His new boss gave him a notice… It was getting late, but Paul
still wandered the empty streets, delaying his return home. He didn’t know what
to say to his wife – he felt like a loser. She might think exactly the same. He
couldn’t stand it.
“What do I do here?” he asked himself, but in one of the little separate rooms he saw a picture with a garden in the spring.
“What a contrast to the sad, autumn day…” he smiled. Paul forgot his misery for a while. He came up to another painting. It was a painting with an older woman.
“Really! She resembles my aunt from Warsaw!” The image amazed and amused him.
All his childhood came back to his eyes.
“There is poverty at home if there is no Jew there” – Maria liked repeating
these words always when she looked at the picture.
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