Imagine a house falling out of the Kansas sky and landing on someone or something you loved. You’d be witchy, too. Tell me you never felt like that. Let go of Auntie Em’s hand, my little pretty, we’re not in the world of nice Jewish girls anymore where everyone has a brain, a heart, the nerve. No, you and I, we’re going to an underworld of Jewish witches, mojos, spirits, spells and hexes.Snow blankets Ninth Street in the East Village.