Читать книгу Kin - Dror Burstein - Страница 9

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At the central bus station, [ ] would wait next to the buses. Sometimes for hours. Everyone passes here, he thought, so he will pass here too. “He.” Nobody looked back at him.

If he could see him, only for a minute, and even from a distance, it would give him a little peace. And so in the beginning he would go and look for him. Just stand there at school fences. Is that him? Is that him? For years.

And he would sit and play at the bus station, and sometimes in the streets next to it, and sometimes people wanted to throw him a coin, but he never put out a box, and his case was closed, so nobody threw a coin, or else they put it down on the ground. One day, [ ] thought with the sound of the music in his ears, he would bend down to me with a shekel in his fingers. Everybody passes here. Yes. One day he would turn up too. He had to. The name they gave him was Emile. In 1970. But who knows what his name is now.