In life, there are slow moments, lasting only an instant in your mind to be forgotten, and other moments that manage to be repeated and repeated in your subconscious for the rest of your life. For me, and many other Jews, all this goes back to the Second World War, of course stress problems had origins further. I remember walking out with my mom, scared by debris, praying that we not be seen, not to reach the camps and end up like my father, who made it clear they do not want to see us die. so it was like we entered The Grand Mosque of Paris, in 1945, just a few months the war ended. I remember the atmosphere of fear and security while fear, anxiety and peace at once, something not very common. Upon finally leave Germany, they packed me and my mom in small boxes of wine, having to share it with those wines, unable to breathe, and if thirst crossed our head, only that wine would be that touch our lips.
I like the way you describe your feelings, it makes me get so into it, also it makes me feel really sad but at the same time happy because you manage to escape. You are giving all the details, and the story is very interesting. I think you are personifying the feelings of an actual jew, in that time obviously. I love the beginning, it made me want to read the rest. And if I has to help you, I would give you a bigger box of wine, and a little secure way to get to the Grand Mosque, than to walk all the streets by yourself.
ResponderEliminar-Andrea Samaniego