The gambit'' is an anthology of twenty five short stories. This
third anthology of mine incorporates three groups of short stories
based on my imagination, experience and knowledge. As an army
officer and a civil servant I've served home and abroad at the very
beginning of my career. I've met with different people of various
nationalities, and learned to appreciate customs, traditions and
culture, which broadened my horizons and enhanced my capabilities;
and enabled me to express vividly my views on three main themes: on
daily life, art and my dreams. Below are displayed short paragraphs
of one of the anthology's short stories, which serves as a glimpse
of what kind of stories expects the reader in this anthlogy: So how
can they fool us you'll ask? We do know all about their ties with
North Korea, that's what we believe, right? But there's one fact we
didn't take into account, where their bombs are going to be built.'
He made another short break on purpose now, to enhance the dramatic
atmosphere. But he didn't have to explain it anymore, the
surprising riddle was solved by all the session participants, they
didn't interrupt him though and he summed it up in one more
sentence. 'So they'll supply the North Koreans with enriched
uranium and the North Koreans will build their bombs.' 'Your
paintings are, how should I define it? Impressive, yes that's the
right term, absolutely impressive.' She said opening her car's
door, far from the danger of any commitment. 'I'd like to have a
second look at them, before reaching any decision.' She added with
a polite smile and understanding. 'I'll keep in touch.' She went on
talking behind the steering wheel, and started the car's engine.
'Listen to me, this kind of degenerate art isn't marketable
nowadays, and if I Tsvika Pleshet defines what you're doing as
tolerable art, you may refer to it as a compliment. For between us,
what are you really doing, copying snap shots?' 'You accusing me of
copying snap shots?' Ahiram repeated; his ex friend's last words,
hurt and humiliated. 'I've never used photos or prints; I've
painted models or relied on my memory.' 'So what, ' retorted Tsvika
sending a furtive glance at the museum director and the electrician
who were getting nearer. 'Models, photos what difference does it
make, and whom does it interest anyway? Listen to me and listen to
me carefully, update yourself and do it fast if you want to see me
visiting you studio, capish?' Without any intention to wait for an
answer he went on: 'You'll have to move now.' He noted when the
museum director and the electrician were by his side. 'And who's
that old hag you've brought along with you? He asked all of a
sudden, turning his eyes towards Ahiram's wife, 'your aunt?' The
electrician who was bent over the mike, burst out with wild and
loud wave of laughter that resounded all over the hall through the
numerous speakers, which were hanging all around. The museum
director's face reddened up to his hair roots, and a broad
embarrassed smile covered his red face.
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