Herman Broder turned over and opened one eye. In his dreamy state, he wondered whether he was in America, in Tzikev, or in a German camp. He even imagined himself hiding in the hayloft in Lipsk. Occasionally all these places fused in his mind. He knew he was in Brooklyn, but he heard Nazis shouting. They were jabbing him with their bayonets, trying to flush him out, while he pressed deeper and deeper into the hay. The blade of a bayonet touched his head.
- From Enemies, A Love Story by Isaac Bashevis Singer
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