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Guardian Angel translated from the Hebrew by Tsipi Keler In the 40's, in the Valley of Jezreel, while visiting relatives in Zeronia my mother took me along into the women's section of the public showers. The six year old in me was compelled to watch how above, between the ivory columns of muscular thighs, the thick forest of womanhood wildy grows. And then, like in the movies: a split second before he desecrated the open robes of some stray mom - I slipped on a wet floor, suffused with the good odors of soap, and the angel who blankets the eyes of the newborn instantly blanketed me with a hard blow, a torn eyebrow and a bleeding cut. But there are nights when I must return to that same arena, go back once more to the old crime, and without a watchful angel I turn back, peek at the forbidden: without his hand obscuring my memory, and without the blessed miracle of his vigilance.
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