sorrow found me when I was young - the deck at night
Fate has lifted Grady out of one life and into another. He wakes up out of a vague dream of snow falling against his face to see sun shining through a porthole, his head full of memories from someone else's history, and climbs out of bed to resume that man's existence.
Abraham's time aboard the Titanic is spent mostly staying out of the way of anyone who looks like an authority figure. It's not difficult to do on such a ship, where the holds and lower decks are packed with men and woman in equally desperate and clandestine circumstances, fleeing the dark claws of European conflicts as much as they are seeking a new life in America. The forged documents which have granted him passage weigh heavily on his mind, as does a certain feeling of unease, of something left incomplete, that he attributes to his hasty departure from Poland.
It makes him restless, driving him towards a certain longing for escape, and he spends much of his time at the rail, a dark and huddled figure in a heavy coat and eyes glinting out from under a flat cap, staring out at the water as if he can pull a few more miles under the prow of the ship just by wishing for them. Though he reacts with a certain amount of suspicion towards anyone who might approach him, he's sympathetic to those who seem to be seeking a similar escape and will offer a small flask of Krupnik from a coat pocket before cupping his hands around a cigarette and match, opining in quiet Yiddish: ยซ Cold enough out here to freeze the balls off a polar bear. ยป
sorrow waited, sorrow won - the dining hall
With his home many months and a series of uncrossable borders behind him, Abraham is trying to adjust to what most of his fellows hope to be a far better life in the Americas. He thinks he sees the shape of it in the casual luxury all around him, in the sprawling vowels of the English spoken in most parts of the ship, in the photos of the New York skyline alongside the images of London and Paris on the walls of the lounges. The men he meets for games of cards talk about being welcomed with open arms, about work in plenty and apartments with running water and heat all year round.
The food and drink served up in the dining hall is, he assumes, designed to welcome them to this American palate, and quickly proves too rich for his stomach. For a few days he lives on bread and coffee alone, then, daring, decides to try the soup. This is what he's carrying, carefully, to his table, eyes on his hands and his thoughts caught somewhere between the meal ahead and more existential troubles, when his path is suddenly interrupted.
Hot chicken broth splashes across his suit and over his wrists; the bowl clatters to the floor. He yelps in surprise and disgust, then turns his attention on the person who had the temerity to be so clumsy as to walk into him. His anger resolves itself in furious and demonstrative Yiddish, his expression thunderous as he gestures to his clothes, to the staring audience of passengers around them, to the idiot in front of him.
ยซ What the fuck do you think you're doing? Look at what a mess you've made! ยป
Grady Numbers | Fargo TV
Fate has lifted Grady out of one life and into another. He wakes up out of a vague dream of snow falling against his face to see sun shining through a porthole, his head full of memories from someone else's history, and climbs out of bed to resume that man's existence.
Abraham's time aboard the Titanic is spent mostly staying out of the way of anyone who looks like an authority figure. It's not difficult to do on such a ship, where the holds and lower decks are packed with men and woman in equally desperate and clandestine circumstances, fleeing the dark claws of European conflicts as much as they are seeking a new life in America. The forged documents which have granted him passage weigh heavily on his mind, as does a certain feeling of unease, of something left incomplete, that he attributes to his hasty departure from Poland.
It makes him restless, driving him towards a certain longing for escape, and he spends much of his time at the rail, a dark and huddled figure in a heavy coat and eyes glinting out from under a flat cap, staring out at the water as if he can pull a few more miles under the prow of the ship just by wishing for them. Though he reacts with a certain amount of suspicion towards anyone who might approach him, he's sympathetic to those who seem to be seeking a similar escape and will offer a small flask of Krupnik from a coat pocket before cupping his hands around a cigarette and match, opining in quiet Yiddish: ยซ Cold enough out here to freeze the balls off a polar bear. ยป
sorrow waited, sorrow won - the dining hall
With his home many months and a series of uncrossable borders behind him, Abraham is trying to adjust to what most of his fellows hope to be a far better life in the Americas. He thinks he sees the shape of it in the casual luxury all around him, in the sprawling vowels of the English spoken in most parts of the ship, in the photos of the New York skyline alongside the images of London and Paris on the walls of the lounges. The men he meets for games of cards talk about being welcomed with open arms, about work in plenty and apartments with running water and heat all year round.
The food and drink served up in the dining hall is, he assumes, designed to welcome them to this American palate, and quickly proves too rich for his stomach. For a few days he lives on bread and coffee alone, then, daring, decides to try the soup. This is what he's carrying, carefully, to his table, eyes on his hands and his thoughts caught somewhere between the meal ahead and more existential troubles, when his path is suddenly interrupted.
Hot chicken broth splashes across his suit and over his wrists; the bowl clatters to the floor. He yelps in surprise and disgust, then turns his attention on the person who had the temerity to be so clumsy as to walk into him. His anger resolves itself in furious and demonstrative Yiddish, his expression thunderous as he gestures to his clothes, to the staring audience of passengers around them, to the idiot in front of him.
ยซ What the fuck do you think you're doing? Look at what a mess you've made! ยป