Fima contented himself with reading the main headings. Tears of compassion suddenly flooded his eyes, not for a specific woman, Nina, Yael, Annette, Tamar, but for womanhood in general. The separation of humankind into two sexes struck him as an act of cruelty and an irreparable injustice. He felt that he had a share in this injustice and was therefore partly to blame, because he had sometimes unintentionally benefited from its consequences. Then he thought for a while about the punctuation of the leaflet and how it could be improved. Whoever left these leaflets here foolishly forgot that men sometimes come to the clinic, including religious men: problems of infertility and so forth. Pamphlets like these might embarrass them. Women might even be embarrassed, waiting and watching a man reading this kind of literature. Then he recalled that it was he himself who put the pamphlets out: he had never looked at them before. Also, despite the risk of embarrassment or tactlessness, various pictures, ornaments, and souvenirs were displayed on the walls and shelves bearing messages of thanks from grateful patients. They signed their dedications only with their initials or with their first name and the first letter of the surname, like that brass dish from Carmela L., “in eternal gratitude to the dedicated and wonderful staff.” Fima had not forgotten this Carmela, because one day he heard that she had killed herself. Even though she always struck him as somebody outstandingly courageous and cheerful. The mayor of Jerusalem ought to ban the use of the word “eternal,” at least within the city limits.