This was a strange Rosh Hashanah and it feels like a stranger Yom Kippur. Last year it was the eve of my birthday, which I would spend at two different museums before meeting my family after sunset for break-fast. This year I lit the yahrzeit candle we bought six months ago when we were what we then called apocalypse-shopping: it burns for the dead whose names we remember, whose names we don't know. Year after year now, I return to the story of the prayer and the fire and the place in the forest, because all we can do these days is tell the story; it has to be enough. And if it isn't, we tell it anyway.
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- 1: I'm not related to anyone
- 2: You are a case of the vapours
- 3: And we're on the right side of the ground where they bury the bones
- 4: Now I feel like Kafka with a bad migraine
- 5: For when the heart's a sinking stone
- 6: Fierce as the Baltic sea
- 7: All the trees carve shards of light
- 8: Reflections coming through the radio, the telephone, the TV
- 9: I want what's true
- 10: I've been with him for seven years and now I'll lose my situation
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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