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We jumped out. I threw a last glance toward Madame Schachter. Her little boy was holding her hand. In front of us flames. In the air that smell of burning flesh. It must have been midnight.
"Everybody get out! Everyone out of the wagon! Quickly!"
"Men to the left! Women to the right"
Eight words spoken quietly, indifferently, without emotion. Yet that was the moment when I parted from my mother.
I had not had time to think, but already felt the pressure of my father's hand: We were alone
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