Have You Any Wool
Most people can't take the blood. It takes a special kind of person to be a butcher. Somebody much like a soldier who can be easily desensitized to what he sees. If you grew up like I did with a father who was a butcher, you're already conditioned and don't need any desensitization. I've always been an average person. The community butcher. Until fate played a cruel game with my life. I can't even begin to fathom that you would even consider believing what I must tell you, what happened to me. On my mother's grave it's real, it happened, you are just going to have to make that leap of faith to realize what I have to say is truth. I'll let you come to your own conclusions. It was a harsh winter, 1847 in Turzovka, a village in Slovakia. The cold clung to your body like a disease. The remaining sheep and cattle we had left that season were dying off from the cold and disease. In the shop I own and operate with my brother Yitzhak, we were soon running out...