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loses, who wins, the pain inside him, he hopped toward the
tents on the seashore and wanted to get up and go to the settlement, to
Grandmother, to be a live hero returning to the kindergarten teacher Eve
and to her husband Teacher All's Well. Here, Eve, is a chick who did come
back, your other chicks were left there. To see the gravestones, to forget.
But he got up in the morning and went to the officer of the city. The office was humming with soldiers getting new uniforms or returning uniforms or requesting transfers. From the officer of the city he got addresses
of those who had been with him. He tried to remember the battle he had
left the day before yesterday and everything was mixed up in his mind, the
battle, the movies, Laurence Olivier playing Hamlet, Goethe is better than
Shakespeare. The girl he loved at night disappeared, maybe I dreamed all
those things. He walked with the list in his pocket stood still in the street
and saw an apartment on the second floor. On the balcony hung flowerpots
and a gigantic awning covered it from the sun. He went up and knocked on
the door. A woman opened it. She looked at him and tried to wipe away
some tears seen drying in her left eye. Boaz said: I'm Boaz, I fought with
Johnny. The woman brought him inside and gave him tea. He drank it and
tried to talk, but he couldn't. She said, what are you seeking here, Boaz?
He didn't know and so he left. Then he went to the cafe and sat for three
days and waited for some parents to find him there. He bought a gigantic
Bristol sheet and wrote on it in big letters "I know dead people," and hung
the Bristol paper on the tree in front of Kassit Cafe, among the announcements of exhibitions and poetry books that were now starting to come out at
dizzying speed. But only one man asked him if he knew Menashe Aharono-
vitch and Boaz said he didn't. People who knew him laughed and Minna
appeared with the torn finger and said Boaz was out of his mind but she
didn't dare approach him. He sat there at the table, alone, full of a new joy
that bloomed in him, waiting to give testimony. The waiters served him
beer or coffee. The money ran out and he left. The policeman who tried to tear the Bristol sheet off the tree couldn't do it because Boaz fought for
his right to give testimony. Three days later he sat with a woman he didn't
know and tried to explain to her how the woman he had slept with in the
hotel looked. The woman he didn't know thought that was surely love and
didn't understand him at all even though he talked about love as if it was
a war you died in. He wanted to tell her, That's perfect non-love, but I'm
searching for her. And only at the end did he start striding toward Menahem
Henkin's house. Here there was already a problem, he knew Menahem well,
he defended Menahem, and after he died they said maybe he had been all
right. Then the "maybe" was erased. The street was flooded with light but
Boaz walked in the shade and when he had to cross the street he leaped
across. He believed he'd find the young man who beat and was beaten by
him embracing the woman he almost succeeded in loving in the hotel, but
he didn't. Courtyards swallowed up the beautiful and the good who tried
to seem indifferent. People were already starting to come out and seek a
new substance in their new state, which distributed food coupons and
declared austerity. When he came to Henkin's house, he saw a dim light,
loved the name of the street, Deliverance Street, near the sea, small, pitiful houses, tipping over, and clearly they had once been nicer and more
festive. He wanted to tell Henkin that he had sat in Kassit Cafe three days
and waited for him and why didn't he come, but he saw a scarecrow of a
man drying himself at a dead castor oil tree. Henkin looked suited to the
place. His clothes were dark, his hat was from another decade, the music
that burst out of him was a waltz of slaughtered ducks. He looked avenged
and