Chapter Thirty-Six
I know a great deal of the life of Belgi Abutov (i.e. the poet Belgi, i.e. the guerrilla fighter Yosir), certainly more than I am telling here. Naturally, the greater part of what I know, I learned in the process of working on this book, when I was not only inundated with the materials collected by my journalist friends, but also had my own meetings with writers, which for some reason resembled classic rendezvous between spies: mostly in secret, reached by devious routes, arranged by third parties who constantly glanced around and spoke in whispers, even in their own homes.
I never used to think that I would become a journalist – a profession I had always rather looked down on, rather as a psychoanalyst, say, might look down on a proctologist. But life has changed so m
