The Black Envelope
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Attempting to clear up the mystery of his father's death forty years later, Tolea, an eccentric intellectual, is drawn into a web of suspicion as he pursues an elusive photographer who has left a photo archive of communist society.
stages of affirmation. Labor—an honor-bound duty. Discipline—as much discipline as possible,” but he couldn’t escape the sound of the guide. “They’re conscientious, extremely conscientious. They keep their minds on their work, carrying out instructions to the letter. They’re punctual and see through to the end what they are entrusted with. We had an exemplary case of a woman comrade who for ten years has been head of a machine shop at the Brotherhood Shipyard. A shining example. What more can I
with no limits as to race, sex, belief, or other such nonsense. He understood that the victim can become a butcher if he doesn’t actually want to, and that it’s a game which has no limits. If that cretin of yours had really been an artist, he would have understood that. And if he’d understood it, the game would have been different. What a dilemma the chosen people would have had then.” Had Tolea actually spoken those words? Had he interrupted his neighbor Gafton’s speech, or was he merely
Wednesday. An hour by the telephone, the prescribed time for the wager. He dialed halfheartedly, once, ten times, eighty times. Even if the Supreme Being remains invisible, indivisible, blind deaf mute, he’s still a man. Otherwise how could he manage?! If you catch him at the right moment, when he’s really fed up with things or full of pity or disgust—then, the miracle! The miracle happens: you get through. Click, sparks, an answer at the other end. Self-willed, with sneers and grimaces, once,
started to get too dark all around him. Beneath an appearance of calm, yes. There seemed to be a lull, a glimmer of hope—and that’s just when you forget to defend yourself. And that’s what Father was scared of—the apparent calm. Under which the old old danger was bubbling up: you know what I mean. Where there’s no morality, not even corruption can succeed in solving problems. A society without principles: it just shouts that it has some while it is chopping off your rocker. The danger could come
the old man erupted in the direction of the elegant gentleman leaning against the post and absorbed in his reading. “Look at them! Minds like sieves. You can do what you like to them and they’ll forget it. Just give them a little pleasure —a fine day, a pretzel—yes, they forget as soon as you give them a pretzel and a bit of sun. That’s what people are like.” The smart-looking man did not seem to feel that the stranger’s fury was aimed at him. Probably he did not even hear. He gathered together