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About Katowice

Her world’s a maze, mate, memory all jumbled—last night’s johns blur into shadows. “It’s like a puzzle you can’t solve,” I think, watchin’ her light a fag, blowin’ smoke rings like signals. Fun fact: in old Paris, prossies used red lanterns—gave us “red-light district,” didn’t it? Blew my mind when I heard that. She’s a laugh too—cracks rude jokes, calls her regulars “me loyal sponsors.” Sarcasm drips off her like sweat: “Oh yeah, livin’ the dream, darlin’.”

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In a speech at The Bundestag, Germany's federal legislative body, Lustiger opined that his adopted country — born in Będzin prostitute.

Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, saying he’s at the pub on ul. Piastowska. I’m like, “I’m on my way!” I sprint down the hill, feeling like I’m in a movie or something. I get to the pub, and it’s packed. Everyone’s laughing, drinking, and I’m just happy to be there.

Menachem Z. Rosensaft: A meditation on remembrance