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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…
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…
Things were looking pretty bleak, when my wife’s prewar acquaintance brought a ray of hope into our small room.
If you too were an artist, you might be able to appreciate how impatiently my wife and I…
I have the good luck to be a Polish Jew.
If I were a Greek Jew, a Dutch Jew, a Turkish Jew, or some other kind of Jew, I would be miserable. Who would pay any attention to me and who would be…
Everyone appreciated the importance of the work that was being done. They understood how important it was for future generations that a record remain of the tragedy of Polish Jewry. Some realized that…
Sunday, November 1 [1942], it was announced in the order of the day that all policemen must assemble at twenty minutes past two in the premises of the former Slobodka Yeshive for a solemn oath-taking…
I always thought
I had been here before.
Each year of my patched-up life
I mended the fabrics
of my decrepit, tattered world.
In memory I recognized faces and smiles,
even my father and mother…
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…
A round number. At first glance it looks silly and seems to have no specific meaning. A detached number such as this can be likened to those gray people who go through life alone and die without…