Sublime

Adam Phillips

At eight o’clock, Uncle Mishak, the English dictionary in the pocket of his coat, set off up the hill to join the long queue of foreigners in Hampstead Town Hall who waited daily for news of relatives, for instructions, for permission to remain – and as he walked, a tiny compact figure stopping to examine a rose bush in a garden or address an unatt

There were people flocking to him from all directions. He held the key to every heart.