Our Ranks

by Aharon Appelfiel

1.

Tel Aviv is sticky in July; you can't touch a handrail or a wall. I bought a pair of gloves to keep my distance from murky substances. Everything sweats, and I spend a lot of time in the shower; still, the steamy, suffocating sweat penetrates, making the air cringe. I turn on the tape recorder and sit in an armchair. Classical music, a few hours of it, tears my mind