I sat down near the synagogue. The view of the city from there was beautiful. Sheet lightings flared at the north-east. The thunderstorm was approaching. It was languorous. Several heavy raindrops fell ever and again. Down in the square the radio played my favourite records, the ones we used to listen to in Tsepilovo, Father, Mother, Ira, I and the dog called Dianka. The wave of recollections flooded me and my soul seemed to draw up and reach out for life, joy, happiness... A strange combination of embarrassment and hope overwhelmed me... That will happen!