I am a polyglot writer. To me, the free word of prose and poetry can express tragedy and transcendence. Maybe Aristotle was right: Being exposed to dread and pity purifies the heart. But time has proved to us, not last with the Holocaust, that catharsis is fragile. The free word is an imperfect means of fixing the world. Yet it would be worse without the art of writing. I am offering a small contribution to the unborn.