But nothing surprises me now. I’ve grown used to living in a world that is out of joint, as if it has been struck by an enormous earthquake so that the roads are no longer flat, nor the buildings straight.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘she’s all right.’

We walked to the cinema. The red Der Stürmer showcases were back on the street corners and, if anything, Streicher’s paper seemed more rabid than ever.