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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…
I weep, and am amazed. I have seen death so many times and have controlled myself. Have experienced so much torment, disgrace, and humiliation, and…
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…
[…] I want to tell you about my brother’s ghost.
I had so looked forward to seeing him again: my Schorschi, my Czech brother, who had sent us a few postcards from Theresienstadt. But he wasn’t there…
With zeal and zest I threw myself into the work to help assemble archive materials. I was entrusted to be the custodian, I hid the material. Besides me, no one knew. I confided only in my friend Hersh…
Where shall I start? My thoughts are in turmoil. There is an overpowering desire burning in me to put in writing as speedily as possible all that has happened to us in these years of war, especially…
Finding something to say about Westerbork is also difficult because of its ambiguous character. On the one hand it is a stable community in the making, a forced one to be sure, yet with all the…
One week later, as we returned from work, there, in the middle of the camp, in the Appelplatz, stood a black gallows.
We learned that soup would be distributed only after roll call, which lasted…
All of us—dying here in polar, ice-cold indifference of nations, forgotten by the world and its hustle and bustle—have nonetheless felt the need to leave something for posterity: if not complete…
This morning I was in the children’s nursery. Women who work leave their children from 7 to 6. There are 150 children between the ages of three months and two years, [one…