Five years ago, I accompanied Gabriel Moked to an assisted-living facility. He was suffering from ulcerated bedsores and shrieked in pain when they undressed him. In the hopes of getting him some better or at least gentler care, I went and asked the nurse, “Do you know who this is? This is Gabriel Moked. He’s an important editor and a professor of philosophy.” “No,” the nurse said with a smile. “He was a professor of philosophy.” And I thought to myself how unfortunate it was that the man who, more than anyone, would have known how to appreciate so Kafkaesque and cruel a response was the very man suffering in the next room.
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