His eyes moved over the map - the Alex and its impossible trial, Prenzlauer where she'd hidden the child, Anhalter Station, cadging a cigarette on the platform. You could trace a life on a map, like streets. p. 420
"Maybe things will be different for you now, in America."
"Different?" Emil said, flushing, aware that the others were looking.
But their eyes were on Professor Brandt, whose shoulders had started to shake, a raw, uncontrolled blubbering, catching everyone off-guard, an emotion no one expected. Before Emil could react, the old man reached out and clutched him, wrapping his arms around him, holding on, a death grip. Jake wanted to look away but instead kept staring at them, dismayed. Maybe the only story that really mattered, the endless ties of life's cat's cradle, tangled like yarn.
"Well, Papa," Emil said, leaning back.
" You made me so happy." Professor Brandt said, "When you were a boy. So happy." p. 478
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