Under the imaginary table that separates me from my readers, don’t we secretly clasp each other’s hands? Bruno Schulz More Quotes by Bruno Schulz More Quotes From Bruno Schulz ...."the sound of a barrel organ rising from the deepest golden vein of the day; two or three bars of a chorus, played on a distant piano over and over again, melting in the sun on the white pavement, lost in the fire of high noon. Bruno Schulz piano fire two Theses officers were good friends, so it must have been a terrible argument, because the one who played chess with my father was so angry that he walked over to the dentist's house and got the dentist out of bed and shot him. Bruno Schulz good angry friends father
