1
A knock at the door. Vikke, not expecting anyone, immediately cast her eyes about to assure herself that Zelig and Henia were there and safe. She shooed them out of the room, wiping her hands on her apron to remove what remained of the dough she’d been kneading at the kitchen table.
Who could it be on a Monday morning? she wondered. Her husband Yoshia had left hours ago to the market in Viznitz with a wagonload of hay. Chava, her younger sister, was in the village delivering some mending she had done.
She went to the window, carefully moving aside an edge of the cloth curtain. It was a young man, wearing a tired black suit and hat and bearing a closely trimmed full beard. He seemed pleasant but one could never tell. She opened the door just enough to avoid offending the stranger but without appearing to welcome him into her home.
“Hello,” she said, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.
“Good afternoon and excuse me,” he said, touching but not removing his hat. “My name is Yakov Katz. I’m a photographer. I’m visiting Chornohuzy to make family portraits, if you are interested.”
Vikke noted the modest horse and buggy behind him. She had of course seen photographs but had never seen a camera, much less met a photographer. She hadn’t dreamt of ever having her picture taken and felt a rush of excitement as she saw a fleeting image of herself and her family posing for a portrait. She wondered what...
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