I feel like this man has a story. Not least because he is padding round Budapest airport in his socks, clutching his tallis (prayer shawl), fervently seeking a minyan. And I know he davenned already.
I feel like he's ba'al teshuvah (born again, ish). I don't know why.
Somehow, the plane feels safer knowing that there are a substantial number of men dressed as eighteenth century Polish noblemen. Don't ask me why.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
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