A cunning light flared and went out in his green eyes. “But she’s my woman now. Not his. I mean in principle.”

“Azariah, I’m asking for a favor. It’s only for the time being. I’m sure you know the state of Yolek’s health.”

“Are you trying to say I’m to blame for that too?”

“No, not exactly. Maybe in part.”

“For Yolek?” exclaimed Azariah with impudent glee, like a prisoner who has slipped a pair of handcuffs on his jailer’s wrists. “Get this, Comrade Srulik, because I have news for you. Yolek himself sent me a message just ten minutes ago to come see him this evening to have a little chat—and to bring my guitar. Yashek even told me that the brandy bottle would be out. Besides, Comrade Srulik, the only fair thing to do would be to ask Yoni if I have to leave his house. And since that’s impossible, why not ask Rimona? You’re in for a big surprise. The way I see it, you have every right to ask me to leave the kibbutz altogether. Whenever you like. Go right ahead. But no one can ask me to leave my woman. That’s against the law.”

I’d like once more to set down for the record what I wrote yesterday and the day before and will no doubt write again tomorrow. I don’t understand a thing. It’s all a closed book to me.

It’s ten o’clock now. Etan R. is on duty at the switchboard. Azariah and Rimona have gone to visit Yolek. Maybe Azariah is giving a recital there. Anything is possible in this world. Still no sign of Yoni. Tomorrow we’ll call the police and ask Chupka and his scouts to start looking for our prodigal son.

Hava Lifshitz is with me now. She has made us both tea and brought some honey for my throat. She’s sitting on my bed and listening to the music. Brahms again. It’s been ages since a woman was in my room at such an hour. I shall quote another passage from Griffin:

During a long flight, therefore, enormous quantities of body fat are consumed, just as they are on a cold winter night when a small bird is likely to burn most of its fatty tissue simply to maintain its body temperature until morning.

Meaning? Enough for tonight. I’ll stop here.

Friday, March 4, 1966