I thought: I will go to Merenstayn’s whenever I have a few groszy in my pocket. I thought: It is a miracle that it is here. One of the nicest parts of my childhood returned to me. I will go next week for a Mozart, and I will whistle The Magic Flute to my students, and I will hand out gumballs. But somehow, lost in the maze of the ghetto, I never found Merenstayn’s again, or maybe it had never been there in the first place, and I was already living in a dream.
