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Bread, bread. The abundance of it dazzles your eyes. In the windows, on the stalls, in hands, in baskets. I won’t be able to hold out if I can’t grab a bite or bread-stuff. “Grab? You don’t look…
19 August 1943
Today, dear Anka, is the anniversary of your Golgotha, tomorrow the anniversary of your death. A year has passed since I last saw you. You see, Anka, I do not believe in God and never…
“The living faith has vanished. . . . All that remains is poetry!” A superficial observer of life in the ghetto might come to more or less the same conclusion about the way…
Finally, a town. We ride through the shtetl of Tartakuv, Jews, ruins, cleanliness of a Jewish kind, the Jewish race, little stores.
I am still ill, I’ve still not gotten back on…
If one looks closely at the passers-by in the streets of the Warsaw ghetto one can see that the overwhelming majority of them are not originally from Warsaw, but are from…
How good and agreeable is it, when brothers live in one house, and how much more father and son
Peace to my beloved, dear and darling son, whose soul is bound to my soul, the intimate friend, the…
A calm summer night. On the horizon loom, very black, the famous woods on the tree trunks of which our ancestors are said to have carved a record of the tractates of the Talmud they had…
You have a simplistic picture of a pogrom. A well-off and respected shopkeeper lives a proud and happy life. All at once, angels of destruction pop out of nowhere and within minutes they…
I had a vision in Salonika, as though the following words were said to somebody: Go lead Yakov the wise into the rooms and when you and he come to the first room, I admonish you that all the doors and…
Before the war Bloyne was a rich and elegant Jewish town: wide streets, a large municipal park, several monuments, many tall buildings, large stores. But when the war came through, the town was…