I visited the rooms that had been occupied by my Uncle Mendel's family. On the table, a half-finished bowl of soup. A platter of dough waiting to be baked.
"Men to the right, Woman to the left!"
His son searched him, took the crust of bread, and began to devour it.
"i woke up at dawn on January 29. on my father's cot there lay another sick person. they must have taken him away before day-break and taken him to the crematorium."
Yes, i did see this with my own eyes, children thrown into the flames.
the third rope was still moving; the child, too light, was still breathing… and so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writing before our eyes.and we were forced to look at him from close range. He was still alive when i passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extin-guished