By accident I stumbled across the shoe repair shop hidden in an alley, behind an arcade. Popping in more out of curiosity than need I saw him limping to his table, another shoe collected turn to face his machine and me.
The thick accent in his welcome greeting betrayed a Slavic heritage, though artefacts represented a German’s character.
Proudly Prussian by birth, his beliefs against war and pro socialism, were echoed by a prison camp childhood and witnessed by book lined shelves. Writings from Engels, Lenin and Marx shouldered brown paper packages awaiting their owners.
While Solzhenitsyn echoed his sadness from the counter, where the book lay open.