My writer-friend’s father once mentioned that the road was lined with signs in Hebrew. “What do they say?” my friend asked. “You know I can’t read Hebrew,” his father replied. Charlie nodded amiably as I reported this. He had worried about the hallucinations when they started, but now they didn’t seem so bad, he said. There were much worse things that could happen to a person. He knew, because some had happened to him.
