Легенды инвалидной улицы

Invalidnaya street was different in another way. All the Jews on it had blond hair, well, fair-haired in the worst case, 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, there is a rule for that, so that there is an exception. We have very rarely, but still came across black-haired. Well, like, say, my uncle Simkha Kavalerchik. But you guessed right away. This means that this is a stranger, an outsider, 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. Oh, someone, and we had a lot of redheads. All shades, from pale yellow to copper. And the freckles were dotted with faces so densely, as if their flies were sitting. What freckles they were! Now you won't find them! For example, I have not met anywhere. Both large and small, like poppy seeds. Both thick and rare. Many even had them on their noses and ears. In a word, beautiful people lived on our street. Such healthy and strong people like ours could still be found in some places, but such beautiful ones - here, as they say, excuse me, move over.

Ephraim Sevela