Days of the Tel-Aviv Conservatory

A musical rumor spread:
Every Wednesday, on the roof – naked girls.
There was a robust boy among us, who knew everything about Bach, and nothing about women, who said: if there are breasts, it is my prerogative.
With great owe we waited for him underneath the stairs, and when the sound of his steps got
closer, we twittered: breasts?
Unbelievable, he replied, a watermelon market.
He played sad cantatas, and won several prizes.