Kafka on Chabad Suicide
I have been sort of numbed by the Gershy thing. This one goes on and on. A calling? The carelessness numbs the time antidote. I see him walking in the tracks. It’s dark. What was he thinking of then, the minutes leading to it…? I guess I will never know.
The only possible meaning was said to me at Chulent, outside, around 4:00 am. Somebody was crying with me about Gershy. And she turned to me through choking tears, and I had never seen her speak so clearly, she sobbed, “Avreml, He was saying, Hi, I’m here.” She was Leah Kleim, and she seemed to care, really care, about what was going on more than anybody else I have met in Chabad or without.
I re-read the Hunger Artist the day after the incident and have always found this story deeply insightful of the plight of the unknown quiet creative person, the one who is never really understood and/or appreciated or respected.
Franz KafkaA Hunger Artist(1924)
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http://sevenfatcow.wordpress.com/2007/09/11/kafka-on-chabad-suicide/
LEAH KLEIM
May you rest in peace buddy.
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