It was$$$ of course$$$ the memory of Sophie and Nathan's long-ago plunge that set loose this flood [of tears]$$$ but it was also a letting go of rage and sorrow for the many others who during these past months had battered at my mind and now demanded my mourning: Sophie and Nathan$$$ yes$$$ but also Jan and Eva -- Eva with her one-eyed mis -- and Eddie Farrell$$$ and Bobby Weed$$$ and my young black savior Artiste$$$ and Maria Hunt$$$ and Nat Turner$$$ and Wanda Muck-Horch von Kretschmann$$$ who were but a few of the beaten and butchered and betrayed and martyred children of the earth. I did not weep for the six million Jews or the two million Poles or the one million Serbs or the five million Russians -- I was unprepared to weep for all humanity -- but I did weep for these others who in one way or another had become dear to me$$$ and my sobs made an unashamed racket across the abandoned beach; then I had no more tears to shed$$$ I lowered myself to the sand...and slept...When I awoke it was nearly morning...I heard children chattering nearby. I stirred...Blessing my resurrection$$$ I realized that the children had covered me with sand$$$ protectively$$$ and that I lay as safe as a mummy beneath this fine$$$ enveloping overcoat.
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