even notice that I was there, letting me pass by coldheartedly, I myself eagerly searching for some kind of response in their yellowish sullen eyes. My father was nowhere to be found; no one was there to greet him as they used to when he hurried by without a hat and coat. There was no father, nor any longer the vendors that once knew him and loved to chat with him. So I passed by the booths, dazed, my legs heavy, my feet hurting and schlepping along, the ground resisting more and more, until my feet were held fast in thick muck. Also, dense fumes, thickand creeping, surrounded my ears, such that I couldn’t hear, while far-off calls gradually managed to penetrate the distance between, myself hardly perceiving that they were meant for me. But after they continued to pound into my head like hammer blows, I finally had to note that without a doubt someone was calling my name: “Herr Landau!”
I stood there frozen to the spot, not moving a single limb, waiting, the name repeated again and again, yet even stronger, it supposedly directed at me, or maybe not, for how could that be possible? It was my good father they meant, he having for decades occupied the Reitergasse, Haberdashery Albert Landau, or HAL for short, adored and known throughout the city as a solid brand, the brand name appliquéd on soft linen shirts and bright silk ties. Once again, the Reitergasse welcomed back old Herr Landau, who had disappeared. From all the booths and opened doors of the shops, from office and apartment windows, one could hear “Herr Landau!” being called. Although I couldn’t move, such joy couldn’t help but make me think that he was nearby. I also tried to press the words with a half-injured tongue through my lips and called out, barely audible, “Herr Landau!” It wasn’t loud enough, but I hoped that my father would be able to distinguish the voice of his son amid the chaotic babble. I actually managed to turn my head in order to look around, searching here and there for the face of my father among the many faces around me. Yet in vain! I was struck blind and cursed the fact that his beloved features no longer existed in my memory. Wire-rimmed glasses, I told myself, glasses and a tall stance, though no doubt somewhat bent over by the years and the worries. But what good was it if I couldn’t remember him any better than that? All I could do was believe that my father would notice me if I kept waving. I lifted my hand, then my entire arm, though I looked tentative and foolish. Yet nothing happened that I could perceive. Only his name continued to be called out in a continuously audible chain, hanging damp and heavy in the air, as I slumped out of sadness that no one paid any attention to me, the one returning home. With a weak voice, I said, “My name is also Landau, and I am his son.” After which I feebly pointed a finger at myself.
That did it. Someone came up to me, shook my hand, said how happy he was to see me again, and slapped me on the shoulder. But I didn’t recognize the man, nor did I want to ask who he was; it didn’t matter to me. Hehad to be someone from the Reitergasse. I waited anxiously for the man to disclose something even more important to me, but he just stated again his joy, until I interrupted him and asked him for news of my father and for him to take me to him right away, since he must have just passed through here, though we had, unfortunately, missed each other. I only wanted to talk to him as soon as possible, since it had been so long, because of the war, since we had been able to talk.
“He must be in the shop. I need to hurry in order to get to him before it closes. For then he won’t want to open up, because he’ll have to tally the receipts and feed the cat. Then he runs out the back door and is no longer to be found. Please, take me there, I’m tired, I feel dizzy. Go on ahead of me and let him know that I am on my way. But be careful that he is not done in by the
I stood there frozen to the spot, not moving a single limb, waiting, the name repeated again and again, yet even stronger, it supposedly directed at me, or maybe not, for how could that be possible? It was my good father they meant, he having for decades occupied the Reitergasse, Haberdashery Albert Landau, or HAL for short, adored and known throughout the city as a solid brand, the brand name appliquéd on soft linen shirts and bright silk ties. Once again, the Reitergasse welcomed back old Herr Landau, who had disappeared. From all the booths and opened doors of the shops, from office and apartment windows, one could hear “Herr Landau!” being called. Although I couldn’t move, such joy couldn’t help but make me think that he was nearby. I also tried to press the words with a half-injured tongue through my lips and called out, barely audible, “Herr Landau!” It wasn’t loud enough, but I hoped that my father would be able to distinguish the voice of his son amid the chaotic babble. I actually managed to turn my head in order to look around, searching here and there for the face of my father among the many faces around me. Yet in vain! I was struck blind and cursed the fact that his beloved features no longer existed in my memory. Wire-rimmed glasses, I told myself, glasses and a tall stance, though no doubt somewhat bent over by the years and the worries. But what good was it if I couldn’t remember him any better than that? All I could do was believe that my father would notice me if I kept waving. I lifted my hand, then my entire arm, though I looked tentative and foolish. Yet nothing happened that I could perceive. Only his name continued to be called out in a continuously audible chain, hanging damp and heavy in the air, as I slumped out of sadness that no one paid any attention to me, the one returning home. With a weak voice, I said, “My name is also Landau, and I am his son.” After which I feebly pointed a finger at myself.
That did it. Someone came up to me, shook my hand, said how happy he was to see me again, and slapped me on the shoulder. But I didn’t recognize the man, nor did I want to ask who he was; it didn’t matter to me. Hehad to be someone from the Reitergasse. I waited anxiously for the man to disclose something even more important to me, but he just stated again his joy, until I interrupted him and asked him for news of my father and for him to take me to him right away, since he must have just passed through here, though we had, unfortunately, missed each other. I only wanted to talk to him as soon as possible, since it had been so long, because of the war, since we had been able to talk.
“He must be in the shop. I need to hurry in order to get to him before it closes. For then he won’t want to open up, because he’ll have to tally the receipts and feed the cat. Then he runs out the back door and is no longer to be found. Please, take me there, I’m tired, I feel dizzy. Go on ahead of me and let him know that I am on my way. But be careful that he is not done in by the
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