Email from someone in New York who claims to be my cousin. He tells me his father's name and from where his grandfather came. "He's was in the pickle business," which indeed was a family occupation. As he asked me for more biography, I pointed him to my archives, after which I didn't hear from him again. This was also the case with alleged relatives who contacted me from Buenos Aires and Paris.

Memories are not recoveries, but contingencies.
The ram's horn is blown, and we are forgiven.
But the Book is bound only to itself.

 

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