1.0 link 47274 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/felicia-c-sullivan/excerpt-from-the-sky-isnt_b_47274.html In Brooklyn, my mother and I lived with a man named Menachem who taught me two sentences in Hebrew: I love you and I need five hundred dollars. His body was covered in hair as thick as wool but his skin was slick, smoothed with baby oil. He never left the house without Afrin nasal spray and toothpicks. Manny drove a station wagon with buckets of paint, turpentine, and brushes that cluttered the back seat. On the way to school...

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