She went to town and sent out her mail and picked up the linen from the cleaner’s. She went by the grocer’s, she went by the cheese farmer, she turned onto the Schoutenstraat on her way to her car and came to a standstill. She had seen the synagogue before. She had seen it as she had seen most buildings in Zwolle: as places that were either there for her or not there for her. The post office, broad and surrounded by trees: for her.
