This morning, my mother made chicken soup from the remains of the chickens roasted with rosemary for my father's birthday. This evening, we made knaidlach from the remains of the matzah we have been eating all week. This is so traditional, it should come as no surprise I bought an illustrated retelling of Ansky's The Dybbuk this afternoon from Curious George & Friends.
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- 1: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 2: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 3: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
- 4: Here we are in the summer rain again
- 5: You're on, music master
- 6: To cormorant to samphire to plover
- 7: I'm the left hand ticking on the timeless clock
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