Translated by Don Mopsick and Amy Waldinger 790 From Minsk to Starye Dorogi one travels through Osipovitsh, and it takes a whole night. In a dark rail car, upon the hard seat, among sleeping people, the village, from the time before the revolution, goes through my thoughts. The train is nearly the same.
People walk around.
They talk about the forest, about lumber. I set out over the untread snow to my sister's tavern-house, which I see from the station. Door and shutter were still shut. I make out the neighboring little houses, it lacks merely the shoemaker signboard with a strange shoe, which hung by Khaim Latutnik upon the little house in my sister's courtyard. The ornamental signboard, with a person holding shears, hangs once again.