an unusual conversation on the rainy day

dעr tאlmid

I was seating behind my study
it was raining outside
I guess I was so focused on my reading
so I didn’t notice how Jim came in
he sat next to me and gave me a book wrapped in newspaper
poured some bourbon from the bottle standing on the table
into the plastic cup
took a sip
you know, he broke the silence, we don’t have this ‘over there’
and smiled

I was a bit surprised
Jim, I said, why did you bring me Bukowski’s book?
don’t you know that he already wrote everything I would want to write about?
and you, by the way, you already sang all songs
that I would want to sing
he smiled

somebody knocked at my door
it was Dostoyevsky, Jim said
I didn’t let him in, that old and possessed by the demons antisemite
anyway, after a few minutes Fyodor Mikhailovich left

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