I remember a man whose name I cannot recollect. […] On every Thursday, the market day, he would go around with a cloth bag and collect silver coins from the shopkeepers; by the way, some of the shops were so tiny that they looked like small cupboards [...].
Berezne had its venerable scribes. It had its Maskilim and its dissenters, tax collectors and social activists, and even its own lunatics. The Jewish life was a peaceful river. Szuls were crowded with the Jews studying the Talmud among the yellowed books.
When they left the House of Study, the whole town was already deep in slumber. [...] Buczacz lies on a mountain, and it seemed as though the stars were bound to her rooftops. Suddenly the moon came out and lit up all the town. The river Stripa, which had previously been covered by darkness, suddenly gleamed silver...
If we agree with the statement that the Carpathians are the fortress, then the route Ivano-Frankivsk-Rakhiv is the main gate to the fortress, its ceremonial entrance. And the most important word, which opens up another perspective: is Delatyn.
Fejga’s shop was the prominent one – the largest and the richest, where you could buy chocolate, sweetmeats, and Glauber’s salt. At Fejga’s you could hear the latest gossip from the vicinity of Haradzishcha.
My first home was in Izbica; this is where I was born. This was my inheritance – yerushe, as you say in Yiddish – my great-grandfather had built the house and passed it on to the following generations.
Even in terms of its landscape, Kazimierz belonged to the world of Polish Jews. It resembled a page from a women’s prayer book, a prayer book with shining, silver corners or old gravure which anonymous Jewish masters from a bygone era engraved with great piety on the Polish land, wanting to present vividly what Poyln means [...].