Greek Bread

We could smell the Greek bakery from far away: the scent of fresh-brewed dough drifted—seductive and intoxicated—among the drooping willows in the city square, where the people, softened by May’s blessings, seemed almost drowsy. It looked as if, just for that bread smell, some not very well-kept people lived on the benches under the willows. Some would tuck their legs into worn-out shoes and doze on hard slatted seats, with a bundle or a crumpled coat under their head.

To keep people from passing by his bread shop, the prudent Greek hung a painted wooden roll even sprinkled with grainy “poppy” over the entrance, and above it he pinned forged letters meaning the name of the shop—“Takosh.” That’s why they nicknamed the Greek “Takosh.”