This
is a story
in the village of
my childhood
thinking of it now
I see grey fences
and grey houses
and the white of snow
fallen thick
it is cold and dry,
in the dryness my nose threatens always to bleed
walking to cheder one morning
it happens
I have no way to stop it
and still a kilometer to go.
I think, this was
my first painting!
this trail of red in the snow!