Who sat there in the Kremlin all these years? A funny calendar model riding shirtless through the taiga? Our author has clung to an illusion for a long time. Why we should learn to identify our opponents again.
Of
Marlene Knobloch
A spring onion hung limp in my hand as doubts struck me. It was three years ago on Passover, the Jewish festival celebrating the liberation of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. I sat in Jerusalem, white robe, and asked, “What do you mean?” Tami smiled, looked at me with her beautiful Persian eyes, which see through watery tomatoes and bad people in a single glance, and said, “Well, enemies. You must think of your enemies now!”