ABSTRACT
In all disorder there is order, a sort of disorderly order. Even in the muddled affairs of our family, there was a method. Thus, my elder brother used his dowry to help my father start a bakery, and now he was married and lived in the village, just as we used to live there. His wife bore him, just as my mother had borne my father, a child every year, and he came to have the same worried expression, the same furrowed brow, as Father.
