Chapter 11
The stairwell was starting to fill up with people and smoke. But Jade felt as if he were in one of those dreams where you’re running away from some danger and you suddenly take off, as if on tiny wings.
Around the sixties, they met up with some firemen, who were going in the opposite direction. They looked grim but determined and impossibly young, Jade thought. And something else he hadn’t expected: They looked scared.
“Keep going down,” one said, patting Jade on the arm as he kept climbing.
“Oh, Lord, let not the music die within me,” a woman next to Jade said.
He glanced at her sideways.
“From the prayers we say at Yom Kippur,” she explained, smiling at him sheepishly.
He smiled back reassuringly. But where was God in that place at that moment? And where was love? Surel
