Invalid Street was also different in this way. All the Jews on it had blond hair, well, at worst, blond, and the children, when they were born, had hair as white as milk. But, as they say, there is no rule without exception. After all, that’s why the rule exists, so that there is an exception. It’s very rare here, but we still come across black-haired ones. Well, like, say, my uncle Simkha Kavalerchik. But you guessed it right away. This means that this is a stranger, a stranger who, by the will of fate, ended up on our street.

Even the Russian priest Vasily, who lived with us before his execution, was, as they say, fiery red and did not disturb the general color of the street. We had a lot of redheads. All shades, from pale yellow to copper. And their faces were dotted with freckles so thickly that they looked like flies had been sitting on them. What freckles they were! You won't find anything like this now! For example, I have never seen it anywhere. Both large and small, like a poppy seed. Both thick and sparse. Many even had them on their noses and ears.

In a word, beautiful people lived on our street. People as healthy and strong as ours could still be found here and there, but such beautiful ones - here, as they say, excuse me, move over.

Efraim Sevela