Golem
Emet.
Ladies and gentleman, highly esteemed lovers of the written word,
A man is jumping off the Charles Bridge. His pockets are packed with truth. Can such a man surface? What imperatives of this world can you execute with pockets full of truth? Truth, it’s a burden, the writing of truth, it’s a transfusion, it slows you down, death is at your heels, my dear. Who dare, I’m asking you, who dare write the truth? He pauses and doesn’t turn around, he knows very well what is behind him, he can hear the approach, the susurration and rustle of silk robes strewn with dark hoar frost. But, is he afraid, the falling man? Since, as we have seen, he’s falling off a bridge, pulled down by what he knows about all of us. He loses his balance, exactly that, he loses his footing, because everyth
