World Cup Wishes

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On 1 June 2002, I was asked by the family of Mr Yuval Freed to collect his belongings from the police station on Dizengoff Street in Tel Aviv. Among the things that were given to me by Ms Esther Loel, who is in charge of the property room, was a plastic bag containing a large bundle of papers. Since Mr Freed never informed me or his other friends that he was trying his hand at writing, my first assumption regarding the abovementioned bundle of papers was that it must be one of the translations he did for liberal arts students at the university to earn some money. However, there was no name or telephone number written on the plastic bag, and the title of the article in English did not appear at the top of the page, as is customary. I mention all of this to explain why I thought it justified to spend several hours skimming the bundle of papers. I did so not out of voyeurism, but out of a genuine desire to determine the identity of its intended recipient and what I should do with it.

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