For example.
What if a person stood in one spot, growing into the earth like a tree, and milling about with the fields of rye and wheat, corn and potatoes, and the prickly Jew’s Myrtle (Ruscus Aculeatus) just walked on over and hopped into their mouth?
What if melancholic cows roamed through sodden fields, lowing doleful melodies with a hoof raised to their ears, and a bull ran straight over to one with his yarmulke on backwards?
What if an asthmatic chicken pulled a cleaver out from under its chicken-breast and butchered the shochet and fed him to some sickly chicklets who really needed a nice, warm bowl of shochet-noodle-soup?
What if the night burnt like kerosine, and if you lit it once it would burn forever?
What if we weren’t too embarrassed to begin a novel simply by saying, "he –ed her” — not kissed,
but rather… (Think of all the troubles and headaches it would save!)
from fun mir tsu dir, nayste verk IV, (New York: Freiheit Publishing co., 1932), 141-142
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