Alas, poor Rönisch!

2000 words memoir

I have a clear memory of the place where we first met. It was a small room in a communal apartment. There lived an esteemed composer Olivers Shtelmanis. Highly praised by fellow musicians and respected in bohemian circles, he was unknown to a wider audience. Even though I belonged to the latter category, mainly because of my age of eight, I knew him. He was my grandfather.