Jewish Quarter

An old woman, her body bent double with age and the weight of her display case, tried to sell me shoelaces. I shook my head as she first entreated me in guttural Polish, which I didn’t understand, and then in Yiddish, which I did because it’s close to German. But I had no use for shoelaces in any language and couldn’t afford to buy something I didn’t need. Eventually she walked away, her black head scarf fluttering in the breeze.

A young Orthodox Jew stood on the sidewalk, dark forelocks bouncing as he chatted with a man in modern business clothes. Ignoring the automobiles and occasional horse, a man pushed a handcart full of green apples down the street. I smelled the apples’ wholesome scent through the poisonous automobile exhaust. Haggling agreeably before handing over a few of my last remaining pfennigs, I bought an apple for Anton. It might be a long time before Anton got apples again.

Photo from www.ghwk.de/deut/Wanderausstellung/Haendler.jpg