Can a Kushite Change His Skin

I sit in my tiny furnished room on West End Avenue in the Fall of 1961 and yearn to sing Jewish music--as a Jew. When I pass synagogues, I hear melodies of pain and beauty rising toward heaven. / The following year I move to West Twenty-first Street, and between Sixth and Seventh avenues discover a tiny Sephardic cemetary amidst the factories. ................
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