Growing up in the Diamond Olympics • A short story

That morning I was late for the B.S.M.

In the early 1s, the "Carmelit", Haifa's subway, was at its best. Crowds of people drove it. At the entrance to the stations there were facilities operated by special tokens, the size of each of which was like a NIS XNUMX coin these days.

Many people were already waiting at the station. Luckily I had a token in my pocket. I immediately passed the entrance barrier. At that moment the two-car train arrived, entering the station at a tremendous speed, when it seemed that it was about to collide with the wall, however - no! She slowed elegantly, the doors on her right opened, and all the people who had arrived at the Carmel, left at once. At that moment the doors on the left side opened, and the entire large crowd entered, and the passengers sat down in the carriages. There were many who could not find a place to sit, and had to stand.

The whole process took seconds. The train was not delayed at the station. She began to gallop towards Paris Square, (near Haifa Port), a distance of about two kilometers, while stopping at each of the four stations along the way. Between one stop and another, the trip lasted about a minute. The trip to the final destination took about six minutes - literally the speed of a jet.

I got off at the second station ("Masada"), and ran towards the school, carrying a heavy bag with textbooks in it. I passed the half kilometer that separates the "Carmelit" from the school in a real rush, and as I approached the school gate, the bell rang. Beyond the fence, I saw that the schoolyard was emptied of students, and I was the last runner. I could hardly breathe when I entered the classroom. I knew that the physics teacher, Mr. Gal, is a Yaka, and hates others. Everyone else received moral sermons from him. He would say: "Another 6 minutes, and 30 students are waiting for you here! How much is 6 times 30"? I would answer: "About an hour and a half." When a shy smile appeared on my face.

He would get angry and shout: "It's 3 hours! You wasted three hours of study for us! And you don't know math either! What will happen to you? I'll talk to the principal and they'll move you to an advanced class." A statement like this would have startled any student. In moving to a class where slow students learn, there was a lack of respect. Suddenly I became amused, and I asked: "Teacher, in the advanced class is the latter allowed?" All the students burst out laughing...
The teacher looked at his watch, realizing that he had wasted "3 hours" preaching, and said to me: "Sit down now, this is your last time to be late"! However, that morning, Mr. Gal did not arrive.

The students were very happy to meet me and said to me: "Sachtin on you, well done"! "What happened"? I asked. They handed me a new "Radio and Electronics for Youth" brochure, and it said that I won a prize, because I solved the riddle of the month, and my name appeared in the newspaper. I was happy, and the students were proud that their classmate is the only solver in the whole country. The Bible teacher, Mr. Verdi, entered the class and warned us to be quiet, because we were disturbing his lesson, which was taking place in the next class.

Not much time passed, and the school principal entered the classroom, accompanied by another person. The deputy principal informed us that Mr. Gal had gone on sick leave, and introduced Mr. Yousfi, the substitute teacher. Mr. Yousfi was a full man, blond - curly, his face was somewhat rough and his gaze casual, he did not smile, and he was wearing a very thick woolen jacket, which was larger than his measurements.

When he began to speak, his words could not be understood, and it seemed that he was talking to himself. He had a speech impediment. We tried to understand his words. He said: "I know what you learned with Mr. Gal. We will continue from that point." He filled the board with numbers and letters, and asked us to copy it into our notebooks, and also read questions from a number as homework.

The truth can be said that I did not understand what Yosef was doing in class. is he a teacher is he a guest He didn't connect to the class at all. We wondered how such a prestigious school like Basmat, which is a secondary vocational school affiliated with the Technion, hires such a strange person.

In those days, the SMT was unlike any other school in the country. Good guys studied there, who loved to work with their hands. They had a developed technical sense. They built, repaired and did everything that boys can do with their hands, with great joy.

After a few weeks, we all had enough of Yusfi. We were not progressing anywhere academically, and he continued to make a single show of presence in class, with his big jacket. Two of the biggest pranksters in the class decided to ambush him. In those days, most of us used to write with a fountain pen as a writing tool. It was a pen that was filled with black or blue ink. The pen had a nib made of steel. They would fill the pen from an inkwell. The filling operation always got your hands dirty. Drops would spill on the table and on the notebooks. Most of us used "Bik" type ink made in Israel. Compared to the privileged ones, they used ink made in the USA - Waterman.

They would open the pen with the turn of the screw, draw the ink in, and have to immediately close the pen before it started to drip with any slight movement. When the bell rang, Mr. Yousfi gathered his papers into his bag, and left the class. Arnon filled his pen and shouted: "Guys, I'm out of ink! Who can give it to me?" Saying this, he advanced towards the exit, the open pen drawn in his hand. Shmulik, the other mischievous one, also ran towards the exit, pushed in front of Arnon, and collided with him hard. The pen, which was not closed, flew out of Arnon's hands, and hit the back of
Mr. Yousfi's jacket. Immediately an ugly black stain spread over the well-kept coat. Yosef didn't say a word, and went down to the management offices.

The deputy principal came urgently to the class and made an inquiry, which was accompanied by shouting. The deputy principal found out who the offending pen belonged to. Arnon of course claimed that he is not guilty, he did not do the act with the first intention, and he does not know who pushed him. We all saw the act, but none of us reported it. It can be said that Aaron filled the pen with ink, while we filled it with water...

From fortune to fortune, Mr. Yousfi left, (or was left) from the school, and disappeared. Mr. Gal returned, and once again accuracy began to prevail in our school. After excelling in solving electronics quizzes, I decided to take advantage of my talents in the field, and started working during the holidays in a radio repair laboratory. I soon began to like the work, and the workplace liked me.

After the long vacation was over, on the first day of school, I was again very late to school. When I was driving in Carmelit, I didn't get off at the "Masada" station, but continued to Paris Square, which is the last stop in the lower city, and arrived at the laboratory of "Han et Camille". They were very surprised to see me, and asked: "Didn't you go back to school today?" I answered them: "It's only the first day, we don't learn much, we just hand out books. I'd better work a little." They were very happy, and I had a very successful working day. I continued in this way. I went to school - one day, one day not. Two days a week to school, two days to work, and two days a week I went to daily shows at the cinemas - "Orion", "Gal Or" and "Domino". I've seen all the cowboy movies. Every day I saw 30 dead in battles between cowboys and Indians. My "dolce vita" period has begun, a carefree life.

I soon discovered that at my place of work there is an extraordinary activity in the field of electronics. In the same laboratory they even began to produce radios called "Erez", which were recognized as the best in Israel. All electronic innovations, including the first transistor devices in Israel, as well as the first televisions in Haifa, went through this quality laboratory, and soon I reached the rank of "chief technician", when most of the employees were older than me, some even twice my age. What did the masses say to Marie Antoinette? "Bread and fun". I had bread, and the amusements also arrived, bit by bit...

Good friends, as well as family members, began to pressure me to continue my studies. Indeed, I went to study at the Technion's preparatory school, and since I lacked a number of subjects in which I had to take the matriculation exams, I decided to enroll in the new external school for evening studies that opened in Haifa at that time - the "Technikum". For the first time in Haifa, an advertising campaign was held for a school of this type.

Large advertisements announced to Haifa that anyone can easily complete their studies for matriculation in the afternoons and evenings. The school is located on the third floor, in a house on the corner of Herzl and Bialik streets, above the "Mironi" pharmacy - right in the heart of Haifa.

I went up the dark stairs, and entered the corridor, which was also half dark. There was a long line of registrants in front of me. Some of the candidates for studies were young people aged 16-19, and others around 25-30, most of them married and with families, who aspired to advance in life. Tuition was quite high, but could be paid in installments. At that time, credit cards were not yet used in Israel, and the use of checks was not safe, similar to today, because checks often bounce. Therefore, the students were required to sign bills. These were long slips of paper, in which we signed a commitment to pay school fees.

While standing in line to the office, I thought to myself how can a place like this be called a school? These were two apartments connected to each other, and they had 6 living rooms, which were converted into study rooms. There were student chairs. I was told that the principal of the school himself determines with whom and what each student who registers for studies will learn. The manager sat at a desk and did not look at the registrants, but only at the bills that were on his desk.

When I saw the manager, how much was my surprise! It was Mr. Yousfi, the substitute teacher from BSMT, wearing the same gray jacket. For a moment I was happy to see a familiar face, and I turned to him: "Mr. Yousfi, the teacher, how are you?" He looked at me for a moment, and without being moved, asked: "You were my student Maybe, I don't remember. Come and sign here, and here, and here again, and come to class on Thursday at five o'clock." I started studying. We sat crowded in the classrooms. We were of different ages. It was a bit strange to see - a 16-year-old student, with students 35 and older. Slowly we began to get to know each other Some of the young people among us became friends. We met at friends' houses.

This mixing between young and old was interesting. Some of the older students smoked in the classrooms, and during the break, when about 100 people left the classrooms, there was not enough room in the dark corridor, so most of the students went up to the roof, where some of them smoked and joked. Couples were formed, who started going out regularly. I also started making friends with some of the young people. One day, I got a surprise. A girl I knew before started studying with us. Her name was Tracy. She grew up a bit, and was very nice. We started chatting during breaks on the roof. I also knew Israel Wilk. He was a religious guy, and wore a black cap. At first there was no connection between us. He was always standing on the sidelines smoking. There was also Ella, a very sympathetic girl, who suffered from a disability. She was lame, probably due to the polio disease (polio) she contracted as a child.

One day, we attended a Bible class and heard a lecture about King David. The lecturer was a handsome and curly young man. The girls loved him very much. He was smart, and had a captivating smile. The lecturer turned to us and asked: "What do you think of the king?" To tell about David's conquests, his victories over the Philistines, and his victory over Goliath. When I was asked by the teacher what I thought, I answered: "He was an important king, but in addition, because of the Batsheva affair, I think he was a murderer." And an adulterer." In the classroom there was a commotion, Israel Wilek got up from his seat and shouted at me: "Shut up, you're not worth King David's poop"!

The teacher stopped him by saying: "This is an interesting opinion. Israel, can you explain the act of Uriah and Batsheva better?" Israel began to get confused and said that King David is holy, and his descendant is supposed to be the Messiah... due to a lot of arguing, he was unable to convince any of us, and he left the class. The teacher continued to discuss the topic precisely in the spirit of what I said. The lesson was interesting.

During the break, Israel Wilek came up to me and apologized. He said to me: "I shouldn't have spoken like that, but you hurt my faith. We continued to talk, and later we became good friends. Israel told me that he was from Jerusalem, and left the house because he had various problems, which he did not want to discuss. And so, while we were standing on the roof of a house The school, we used to talk in groups, I noticed older guys, who would come to school from their work, they had heavy bags in their hands, and they were standing in a circle, talking to the student Moshe Weinberg, and it turned out to me that he was an outstanding athlete and champion of Israel. Moshe stood with his back turned to me, and talked kindly with
The guys.

I noticed that his body was well built and his back was broad. He was a handsome man, and his hair was short. Tracy approached me to ask something, and suddenly noticed Moshe Weinberg's broad shoulders. Her eyes widened in astonishment, and she blurted out: "Oh, what a thug!" Moshe heard this and immediately turned towards us, looking angry, and asked: "Who said that?" Tracy cowered in fear. I said to him: "Do you know what a bully is in classical Hebrew? It's an athlete"... He smiled a charming smile, and shook Trisi's hand and hand kindly, saying: "I'm already used to being told that"... I thought to myself that such a person should be friends, and I decided Approach him during one of the upcoming breaks and talk to him.
But as happens a lot in life, if you don't do something at that moment... it probably won't happen anymore
forever.

In the evening we left the "Technikum" in bruises. I was in a group with Ella, Tracy and Israel. On the street next to the school, there were piles of dirt on the sidewalk. The guys got off the sidewalk towards the busy road. I went down with one foot to the road, and took several steps, with one of my feet on the sidewalk, and the other on the road. My walk seemed to limp. Israel laughed and said: "Look, he is lame like these"! The guys smiled, and Ella said: "The difference is that I came from home like this"... I was filled with sadness to see her like this.. We passed by Beit Kharon on Herzl Street in Haifa, and we continued to talk to each other.

At the station stood a young woman about 25 years old, a bag in her hand. A bus stopped at the station, but she did not get on. Israel approached her, as if to ask her something. As for me, I went out with Ella, and accompanied her to her home. We walked through the dark streets of Hadar, and arrived at Ella's house on Gaola Street. Ella was a lovely girl. She had big, understanding eyes and a beautiful smile, and she was very intelligent. She exuded pleasantness and warmth. Before entering the house, she kissed me on the cheek. I extended my hand in greeting, and she held my hand with both of her hands, which were soft and warm.

I ran down the stairs of her house, so that I could catch the last bus to Carmel. I started going out with Ella to movie shows, and we liked to go to a small patisserie on the corner of Michael Street. There were wonderful cream cakes, served by a religious confectioner, wearing a kippah, and they helped in the business.

In his hand were his three daughters, who were kind, courteous and reserved. Israel would occasionally join Ella and me, and was often interested in how we spent time together. One day I met Israel together with his neighbor named Lonnie, who was a new immigrant. Israel asked me to wait a moment, until he bought groceries at the grocery store. He took a loaf of bread and gave it to his neighbor.

Lonnie noticed that the grocery store owner didn't notice that he had taken the bread, then winked at Israel, hid the bread behind his back, and was about to leave the grocery store. Israel hinted to him that he would "carry" the bread. I stopped Lonnie and said: "You idiot, what did you try to do? Return the bread to the cash register immediately"! Lonnie looked ashamed, while Israel acted as if he had nothing to do with the case. He also paid for the bread, and we went out into the street.

Israel told me that he had a girlfriend, whom he met at the bus station. She is nice, and sometimes comes to him in his rented room. He has fun with her, and she agrees, and "gives" him. From time to time Israel would come to my house to visit, as if with the aim of studying together. I received him with a warm welcome, and he was with us like a member of the family. One of the times he came to visit me, we walked together on Tel Mana Street. A woman walked in front of us with her daughter, who was a girl of about 18, chubby and with a beautiful face.

Although we would meet her often, she refused to make friends with the neighborhood boys, and did not speak to us. Israel was very interested in her, and asked me her name. I answered him that we call her "the donut" because she is chubby and sweet. He liked it. He wanted to approach her, but her mother was next to her. He looked at her until she entered her house.

One day, he waited for her near her house, met her as if by chance, and asked her about some address. She continued to walk with him up the street, and he managed to befriend her. On one of the Shabbats, Israel appeared at my house at noon, excited and nervous. I went out to meet him, and he asked me to accompany him on a trip to the nearby wadi. I asked him: "Israel, how did you get from Hadar to the estate? You don't travel on Shabbat." He answered: "Not now, let's go down to the wadi, I'll tell you everything." We went down the mountain, and there, among the trees, Israel lit a cigarette and said: "I have to smoke. I took off my kippa, and got into a service taxi." "What happened to you, Israel"? I asked worriedly.

Israel told me that the girl Nitza, whom he met on the street, and thought was his girlfriend, demanded money from him for sleeping with him. She told him she made a living from it. When he asked her why she didn't let him know about it at the first meeting, she replied that she was ashamed to say so, but she was sure that he understood by himself that if you meet a girl on the street, and the rest is as it was, it goes without saying. Israel was disappointed by the fact, and also did not know where he would get money to pay her...

Israel put the kippah back on his head. I honored him with coffee and cake, and went out with him to accompany him towards Moriah Street. Near the house we ran into my religious neighbor, Mr. Kochavi, who blessed me with peace. When we left the alley, I was surprised to see Israel turning right instead of left. To my question, he answered that he intends to visit the "doughnut"...

I returned towards my house, and met my star, who was still standing by the door of the house. He asked me: "Who is the nice guy, wearing the kippah who visited you? Is he from the area? I didn't see him in the synagogue." I told him: "He is from Jerusalem, and his name is Wilek." "Wilk, wilk," said Kochavi. "I am a former Jerusalemite. Yes, there is such a family. I once heard something about them. What, did you say, is his name? Israel?" The next day, I met Israel at the "Technikum" and I said to him: "Listen, my neighbor said he heard about the Wilk family from Jerusalem." Israel was amazed and frightened. "What, did you tell him my name"? "Yes, and why not?" I wondered. "Never tell anyone about me, where I am and what my actions are. It could cause me serious problems." I told him: "Relax, everything will be fine"...

The winds calmed down. Ella, nicer than ever, approached us with her charming smile, and asked: "What's wrong with you? You need to relax, after all, we're celebrating Sukkot." I said: "I wanted to invite you to my sukkah, near the house." Israel was dumbfounded: "What, you are secular, and you have a sukkah"? "Yes, of course, you know that I can assemble and build things with my hands." I told them that I had collected several planks, and fastened them together with nails. I covered the walls of the sukkah with fabrics from my parents' quilt shop. We immediately agreed that in the evening we would all come to the sukkah. We bought cream-coated cakes at the religious pastry shop, and drove to Carmel. These were held by all
the way, and Israel looked at us with great interest.

When we got to the alley, Israel said he wanted to stay, and he would arrive at my house in 20 minutes. we got home I filled the whistling kettle with water, and placed it on the gas stove. In the meantime we went down to the sukkah in the yard. Ella was enthusiastic about the beauty of the sukkah, which was covered with different silk fabrics in three colors. Inside it hung pennants, and other symbols of the Sukkot holiday. Inside the sukkah was a table, with several chairs next to it. It was a relatively warm day for the holidays. Ella sat down and clung to me.

I felt the warmth of her body. She told me: "I admire you, you know how to do good and pleasant things." She moved closer to give me a kiss on the cheek, and her mouth slid towards mine in the process of a sensual french kiss. We felt like we were on another planet. It was the first time I had such a strong and pleasant experience. Through the fog of my senses, it seemed to me that I heard footsteps, but I could not disconnect... a loud beeping of the kettle woke us up. We left the sukkah, and saw Israel standing nearby. I asked him: "Israel, when did you get here?" "Right now, in the second one," he answered. "Did you see us in the Sukkah"? "No" he stammered, "I didn't look in that direction"... I had the feeling that he saw us... but we moved on to the agenda. We ate cakes, and drank wine and coffee...

When we finished, the three of us went to the bus stop for the Hadar Carmel. When the bus arrived, Israel offered to accompany Ella to her home. I was indignant: "What do you mean - these are my girlfriends, I'll go home with you"! The three of us went. Ella suggested that we drop by her house to listen to music from records, because her parents were not at home. Her room was somewhat dark, on the floor lay a beautiful and large Persian carpet. There were pictures on the walls, as well as a desk, a narrow bed and a large wardrobe, and of course - a turntable made by "Ronit". We played records by Paul Enka and the Flitters, and had our own private carol march. We listened to the song "Diana" over and over again, and when the words "I love you, and you love me" were heard, I looked at the clock and said: "Guys, I have to run to my last bus. Israel, come"! i read Israel said: "Maybe I'll stay a few more minutes until the end
The song?" "Well, I said, "I'm running." Ella did not respond. I got on the bus, whose stop was next to Ella's house. Before the bus left the station, I noticed that they replayed the song "Diana"…

Israel stopped visiting my house, under the pretext that he didn't have time, but I saw him hanging out with the "doughnut" in our neighborhood, sitting with her in parks, and in dark areas. I did not meet Ella, as she went with her parents on a vacation of several days outside the city. One day, I saw Israel leaving the "doughnut" house, all smiles and contentment. We went to the bus station together, and I suddenly remembered our last meeting, and I asked: "Tell me, did you stay much longer at Ella's that evening?" He answered me very directly: "We talked for another hour, and then she brought newspapers and spread them on the carpet. I slept with you. She's quite fine, nothing more."

A shiver went through my body. I said nothing, and returned home. I'm done with you guys. I did not return to speak with them, nor did I try to find out if Israel's words were true. Simple - I ran out of "horse" from them.

Israel stopped his studies, and left Haifa... several months passed. One day I was walking up Sderot Mapo, and from a distance I noticed an ultra-orthodox Jew walking in front of me. It was an unusual sight in the secular neighborhood. The man was dressed all in black, even if he had a long coat, a big black hat, he had wigs and he wore glasses
big I watched him dumbfounded. When he approached, he turned to me and said: "How are you?" I replied: "Okay, who is your honor please?" The black-clad man smiled and said: "Don't you recognize me? It's me, Israel"! I was really amazed. He had a long reddish beard, but the eyes - the same eyes... He was very kind, and seemed happy to see me. I was also happy for him.

"Tell me, Israel, what happened to you, how did you become "like this" all of a sudden." He explained: "Listen, I've always belonged to my family. We're ultra-Orthodox Jews. I returned to Jerusalem, found a job, I'm earning quite well. It's true that you can't get rich from this, but I'm settled." In the meantime, the "doughnut" came out of her house, and seeing Israel, motioned for him to come to her. "Wait, Israel, tell me what you are doing." I asked.

He began to speak quickly, glancing at his blossoming girlfriend every moment. "I work as a baler for diamonds. Every two weeks I fly to the USA, and I carry bags full of diamonds on my body. Each of these bags is worth tens of thousands of dollars." I said: "This is actually smuggling. Isn't it?" "I don't know if it's smuggling. If I catch, say it belongs to me. What can they do to me? A person is not allowed to carry diamonds? Besides, we, the ultra-Orthodox, are not checked. After all, we are similar to each other, and dressed in layers of heavy clothes even in the summer." Saying these things, he laughed.

He motioned for me to wait a moment, entered the stairwell of the house, and hugged and kissed the "doughnut" warmly. She went up to her house, and he came back to me. "It's been a long time since I've seen you, and I wanted to talk to you soon. They pay me the travel ticket, plus a little commission. Actually, these are pittances compared to the sums that diamondmen usually earn. I'm already very familiar with this whole business, all the connections and all the clients. I'm missing nothing One - cash to invest. I don't have any of my own, and I have nowhere to get it. Would you like to invest in this business." he asked me

I thought to myself that even if I had, I wouldn't have thought of giving him money. I politely replied that I do not have the necessary amounts, but I wish him success. "By the way," I asked, "what about the donut?" I see that you have made a lot of progress in your relationship, do you plan to marry you?" Israel smiled when he answered my question: "I will marry you?! What happened? When I get married, my wife will be from an ultra-Orthodox house, which will run a strictly kosher house. I come to the "doughnut" for fun, as a man you surely know that we have to empty the batteries every now and then"... Israel turned, and entered the "doughnut's" house. Later, when I would see him on various occasions rushing to the "doughnut's" house, I would do the I hurry up, wave my hand to him for peace, and that's all.

Israel disappeared again for a while. One day I met the "doughnut". I asked her how she was, and she, who had never said hello to me before, stopped next to me and said: "You know, Israel has serious problems at work. I can't tell you. He doesn't tell me either. He hasn't visited me in a long time, and I'm worried. Maybe you know something"? I answered that I know nothing about him, and I don't even know his address. She said that she didn't know his address either, and I realized that she knew less about him than I did. I answered her: "Israel knows how to manage. He will find a way out of his problems."

That evening Israel unexpectedly arrived in Haifa. After staying at the "donut's" house, he knocked on my door. I brought him home, and he was shaking all over. He told me: "You are the only close friend I have, and I have to tell you something." The truth is that I did not feel a brave friendship towards him, and I did not trust him. He continued: "A disaster happened to me. A few months ago I lost a bag containing diamonds worth $20,000. I don't know where or how it happened. My operators didn't believe me that I lost them, and they killed me. They interrogated me, followed me, locked me in a room For many days, they threatened me and demanded that I tell them immediately where the lost diamonds were. They asked me many times, screamed and almost beat me. If the same incident had happened with Gentile diamond merchants, they would have killed me." "Who are your traders". I asked. He answered: "These are ultra-Orthodox Jews like me, and they are close to the court of a well-known rabbi in New York." "Veno, how are things with you now, Israel?" I asked. "Thank God, my situation has finally improved. They allow me to work in my profession again, and I have even resumed deliveries." "Say, Israel, do you like the "donut"? He smiled under his mustache and said: "She loves me, isn't that enough?"

About ten years have passed. One day, I traveled by train from Tel Aviv to Haifa in the early evening. Many soldiers were traveling on the train, and their backpacks were scattered on the floor of the car. The seats were occupied, and I really had a hard time finding a place to sit. They were all connected to transistors. The Olympics began in Munich. I was not interested in the whole topic related to sports. A soldier's backpack was placed on the only free seat in the trailer. I turned to him and asked him if he would be kind enough to make room for me. The soldier picked up the backpack and placed it on his lap. When I sat down, I noticed that my religious neighbor, Mr. Kochavi, was sitting in front of me.

A very pleasant conversation began to develop between us, and he asked me: "Did you hear what happened in Munich?" I answered him that I did not know exactly, but it was said that the games were going on, although Palestinian terrorists attacked the Israeli pavilion at the Olympics. We agreed that this was our life in Israel. We also started talking about the affairs of our neighborhood, and then he said to me: "Do you remember that I once saw you with your friend from Jerusalem Israel Wilek"? I answered: "Yes, what about him? He disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed him." Mr. Kochavi said: "I often visit Jerusalem. Israel Wilek is now a great diamond man, and one of the richest. He had meteoric success. No one knows where he got the money from. (And I suddenly remembered his lost bag) He married a daughter of the family
Good and well-known in Jerusalem, and started a family."

The soldier sitting next to me, opened his backpack, took out a small transistor radio, and opened it. The "beeps" preceding the news broadcast were heard. The announcer Moshe Hovav announced in his booming voice: "The wrestling coach of the Israeli delegation in Munich, Moshe Weinberg and the weightlifter Yosef Romano were murdered by Palestinian terrorists when they tried to prevent them from taking over the Israeli pavilion. The Munich police said"...

A heavy burden fell on the train passengers. I turned my head towards the window. The train moves heavily. The cypress trees on the sides of the tracks cast shadows that moved in front of the train, and from afar the remains of the sun setting into the dark blue sea were visible...