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“You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” - Mark Twain
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VETERANS CRISIS LINE
advertising campaign
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WRIGHT BROTHERS
branding, packaging
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NG DAILY DOSE
iPhone app
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YO DROPS
branding, packaging
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SALT WATER SAFARI
branding
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SWAGGER
typographic installation
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ROTHCO
branding, packaging
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PHOTOGRAPHY SELECTION
photography
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KILWINS
advertising campaign
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HOLOCAUST MUSEUM
exhibit design
VETERANS CRISIS LINE
advertising campaign
OVERVIEW Suicide rates for active duty military members have been on the rise since 2005. In the past two years, the number of suicides committed by service men or women who have been a part of the War on Terror has been higher than the number of combat related deaths. That fact it disheartening and something needs to be done about it.
CHALLENGE Reaching out to military members who are suffering internally from their experience is crucial. These men and women need to know that there are resources for them to investigate before their emotions drive them to make a very permanent decision. The imagery, tone and over all feel of this campaign needs to be extremely powerful and compelling.
SOLUTION The vibrant imagery taken by the designer shows a military member’s worn out uniform representing isolation and the tired, lonely feelings that the viewer may be experiencing. The various ways of taking your own life that are commonly used among these men are represented in the three different posters. This campaign was very successful due to the fact that it is located in high traffic areas and anyone who sees this poster can tear off the phone number to keep with them in case they were to need it.
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WRIGHT BROTHERS
packaging
OVERVIEW Orville Wright and his brother Wilbur are credited with building the world’s first successful airplane with aircraft controls enabling them to steer the plane. The brothers’ first aircraft, Flyer, made its maiden flight for 12 seconds at 120 feet in Kitty Hawk, NC on December 17, 1903. This day has been observed nationally since 1963 to honor Wilbur and Orville Wright.
CHALLENGE Create unique packaging for a plastic model plane with simple assembly instructions.
SOLUTION Just like the plane the brothers built, the logo is solid and structured. The packaging was made with wood and canvas and is reminiscent of the Flyer.
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Wright Brothers Aeroplane Company
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NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DAILY DOSE OVERVIEW National Geographic is already a great company most known for their incredible worldly photographs and the yellow frame which is used in their logo, magazine cover, and numerous spots on their website. They have existing apps that include national park maps, animal puzzles and nature games.
CHALLENGE The National Geographic website is full of wild and interesting facts, articles, and photographs. What they need, however, is an app that narrows it down for the user. They must create an app that has tidbits of information on multiple topics that is easy to check and learn from every day.
SOLUTION The app created has three sections: Photo, Destination and Animal. This gives the viewer a daily reminder of how incredible the world is. National Geographic Daily Dose is a perfect app for the young to middle-aged person who loves to learn, travel and appreciates photography. Something new every day will keep them interested and coming back to discover more. The design takes into account the well-known National Geographic yellow and black color scheme. After touching the category name the viewer will be brought to a new screen to see more photographs and read further. It’s straightforward and easy to navigate.
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iPhone app
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Photo of the Day selection
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Destination of the Day selection
Animal of the Day selection
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YO DROPS
packaging
OVERVIEW Yo Drops are a fun children’s snack. Labeled USDA Organic, this crunchable yogurt reaches out to the health conscious moms. This product has no trans fat, high fructose corn syrup, or artificial ingredients and has BPA free packaging.
CHALLENGE The product will sell itself to parents with the health benefits as well as the automatic donation for children’s lunch programs. All that is needed is for the product to sell itself to the kids.
SOLUTION The name Yo Drops is reminiscent of yo-yos. It’s the perfect, classic toy that kids of all ages love. Even better, these yo-yos come with a healthy, tasty snack inside! Children can either play with the yo-yo and listen to the sounds it makes while Yo Drops are spinning inside, or take a break from all of that yo-yo fun and snack on the delicious crunchable yogurt. The logo design was drawn to flow as if it is one piece of string laid out. Color schemes were chosen with the intent of grabbing a child’s attention. The radial design has two functions; one is to grab attention, the other is to have a unique design on the yo-yo when it’s spinning and in use. The toy itself is a spill-proof, twistable container that holds Yo Drops on both sides of the string.
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FOR AGES 5+
Ber ry Blast
crunchable yogurt
organic
organic
Ber ry Blast
12-.8oz (23g) YoYos. Net Wt. 9.7oz(276g)
Mango Mania
Mango Mania
crunchable yogurt
S trawber ry Banana
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S trawber ry Banana
organic
crunchable yogurt
crunchable yogurt
organic
crunchable yogurt
organic
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SALT WATER SAFARI
branding
OVERVIEW Seward, Alaska is home to Salt Water Safari deep sea fishing company. They are serious anglers and hunters that love outdoor adventure. Salt Water Safari has a Lodge for those wishing to be on the water more than one day.
CHALLENGE Salt Water Safari needs a new, more sophisticated logo and branding. for the deep sea fishing charters as well as the Salt Water Safari Lodge.
SOLUTION The logo is very versatile. It embodies what Salt Water Safari is about. The color combination is reminiscent of the deep waters where the hook dives deep below the surface. Salt Water Safari has made shirts for their deck hands and had their logo embroidered onto the fisherman’s seats.
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S A LT WAT E R
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SWAGGER
typographic installation
OVERVIEW Typography is not just a way we visually communicate, it’s how we learn and create art. This generation is dependent upon the technology that is ever evolving and it’s more apparent that strong typography can affect viewers in a multitude of ways on a daily basis.
CHALLENGE What word best describes typography and how can it become a conversational piece? As a collaborative team, the word Swagger was chosen and was seen as no match to others. The challenge was to raise awareness about, not just typography, but effective typography. Design decisions must be made about the word, typeface, material and location.
SOLUTION By definition, the word Swagger is a bold, driving force. That’s exactly what typography is in today’s world. The process of creating one pixel entailed using a 1x1 inch square piece of poster board wrapped in aluminum foil, hole punched four times, and woven onto wire vertically and horizontally. In order for this installation to be as bold as the word and a material used to create it, the project was displayed in a high traffic area against a background that provided a great deal of contrast. By doing so, the word really stood out and spread the word about the intricacies of typography with passersby.
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ROTHCO MILITARY APPAREL OVERVIEW Rothco is a military apparel supplier where military member can buy uniform regulation shirts, sock and more. They also sell regulation gadgets and keepsakes.
CHALLENGE Rothco needs a new brand identity and packaging that will be recognizable and easy for military member to find what they need.
SOLUTION Using the shape of a dog tag as inspiration, the designer was able to create the typography used for the Rothco logo. By placing a paper bellyband on the clothing, Rothco can be more eco-friendly and efficient in the store. A clean tan color is used as well as a small digital detail taken from military uniforms.
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branding and packaging
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PHOTOGRAPHY BOOK
photography
CHALLENGE Discover an interesting way to display the designer’s best photos.
SOLUTION The accordion style was used for this book to create a unique way to display the photos. Each vibrant photograph flows from one to the next with connecting physical or implied lines.
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KILWINS
advertising campaign
OVERVIEW Kilwins Ice Cream and Fudge shop is a well-known traditional confectionery store that has been around since 1947. The high quality products, made right-in-front-of you-treats, and exceptional customer service makes Kilwins a great place for a sweet afternoon or after dinner snack!
CHALLENGE The challenge for creating a Kilwins ad campaign was to make something that had a traditional and overall inviting tone that would persuade people to come check out the store.
SOLUTION The Rebus advertising style was chosen to create the look and feel that Kilwins is known for. The hand-done type treatment represents each personality speaking to the viewers individually. The friendly and fresh make it right-in-front-of-you experience is conveyed by showing photos of the products along with the tone and attitude of the copy.
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Florida Holocaust Museum
museum exhibit and event poster
OVERVIEW The Florida Holocaust Museum is hosting an event and exhibit for Holocaust survivor and author Elie Weisel. He will be speaking about his book Night in the evening before the exhibit is revealed to the public.
CHALLENGE Design a museum exhibit based off the book Night using typography. Showcase the same amount of emotion through imagery and typography as there is in the written words of Elie Weisel.
SOLUTION The designer took the literal words from Night and brought them to life in a typographic display on large canvases in the museum. Each panel was designed with a specific quote that is portrayed or implied within the image that strikes a cord within the viewer.
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We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The jour� ney had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was like the others two days no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We w a i t e d impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order c a m e : “ F o r � w a r d ! March!” M y father w a s was the crying. It first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she w a s walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police w e r e lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good� for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the c o m i n g o f t h e Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness.My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up a g a i n . Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!”My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was uselessto complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wieldingclub were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you l a z y good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. W e w a i t e d impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the o r d e r c a m e : “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was whenWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten
“ Oh God , Ma ster of th e Univer se, in y our inf inite compa ssion, ha ve mercy on us...”
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FASTER! FASTER! MOVE YOU LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHINGS
C want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good-for-nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night. No one was praying for the night to pass quickly. The stars were but sparks of the immense conflagration that was consuming. Were this configuration to be extinguished one day, nothing would be left in the sky but extinct stars and unseeing eye. There was nothing else to do but to go to bed, in the beds of those who had moved on. We needed to rest, to gather our strength. At daybreak, the gloom lifted. The moon was more confident. There were those who s a i d : “Who knows, they may be sending us away for our own good. The front is getting closer, we shall soon hear the guns. And then surely civilian population will be evacuated…” “They worry lest we join the partisans…” “As far as I’m
The few days we spent here went by pleasntly enough, in relative calm. People rather got along. There was no disticntion between rich and poor, notables or others.
valuables and jewelry. They know that it has al been buried and that they will have to dig to find it; so much easier to do when the owners are on vacation…” On vacation! This kind of talk that nobody believed helped pass the time. The few days we spent here went by pleasantly enough, in relative calm. People rather got along. There are no distinction between rich and poor, notables and others; we were all people condemned to the same fate-still unknown. We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good-for-nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night.
We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good-for-nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destinatioWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good-for-nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destinatioWe would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt
want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good-for-nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We
We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night. No one was praying for the night to pass quickly. The stars were but sparks of the immense conflagration that was consuming. Were this configuration to be extinguished one day, nothing would be left in the sky but extinct stars and unseeing eye. There was nothing else to do but to go to bed, in the beds of those who had moved on. We needed to rest, to to gather our strength. At daybreak, the gloom lifted. The moon was more confident. There were those who said: “Who knows, they may be sending us away for our own good. The front is getting closer, we shall soon hear the guns. And then surely civilian population will be evacuated…” “They worry lest we join the partisans…” “As far as I’m concerned, this whole business of deportation is nothing but a big farce. Don’t laugh. They just want to steal
screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night. No one was praying for the night to pass quickly. The stars were but sparks of the immense conflagration that was consuming. Were this configuration to be extinguished
Finally, the order came: “For ward! March!” My father was cr ying. It was the first time I saw him cr y. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little
We
would
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the
la st to lea ve. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated.Poli
63
who would have thought that we were so strong? We w o u l d be the last to leave. At n i n e o’c loc k, t h e previ� o u s Su nd a y ’s sce W ne e w s o u ld be W t h e e w last to oul leave. d be At nine t h e o’c loc last to k, the leave. pre� At nine v i � o’c loc ous k, the S u We pre� nd w o v i � W ay u l d ous e w e ’s b Su o u t h e n ld be W last to t h e ew leave. At last to oul n i n e leave. d be o’c loc k, At nine t h e t h e o’clock, last to previ� t h e lea ve. o u s t pre vi� A Sunda o u s nine y ’ s Sun o’c lo scen day’ ck, s e s the we sc pr W re w e e� e p l v ou We d be w o t h e u l d last to be the leave. last to At nine l e a v e . o’clock, At nine t h e o’clock, pre vi� t h e o u s pre vi� Sun u s o day’ Sun s day’ sc s e We s c w o e u l d be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, t h e pre vi� o u s Sun day’ s sc e
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ing club the last to en wield leave.eaAt . Policem tednin e o’clock, nes we rep the previo us
b elding clu the last to Sunday’s emen wi e prev sceneea leave. At ted. Polic s we ninth repeated. we rep o’clock, e o’clock, Policemen ’s scenes . At nine st to the previo We would s Sunday t to leave wielding the la us iou las be the las e Su ev th nd pr club e ay’s scene lock, th ld be clock, the At nine t to leave We would be s we repeat o’clock, o’ e. e wou nine o’c ed. Policem the previo . W e Sunday’s to leav W e W e. At nine scenes we leave. At to st t en We w o u l d la las us ’s wi sce e would be elding clu ay ious would leav the en the lea uld be th Policemen nes we repeated be b ld be e prev ed. be the evious Sund o l i c e m : . last to ve. At nine o’cloc the last to WWe ewo wielding k, th e wou P last to pr ng W k, the shouting: club were lAe a v et. Sunday’s W e W nine o’cloc we repeat e lea ve. p e a t e d . shouti e w o u l d e would be . At w “All Jew scenes we previous be er A ould t t e were es the n i n e Polic o’ s to leave We were be the A ay’s scen ing club w ” n i n e r ldingclub e!” We wer repeated. last the emen wie to clock, the pr last to leave ’s last the last ready. I we outside!” o’clock ay be e! ie nd to o’cloc nd ld id d . ldi w Su id At l e a v e . , the uld ie ev ng club us nt out fir p r e v i � shouting ious Su nine We wo I did no outs l e a v e . Su emen w k, the s outs t first. I di t we repe e previo licemen A were A st. o u s : “Al t wa Jews ic t previ� “All Jew y n i n e were ated. Policem nday’s scenes ne o’clock, th first. o t ou parent’s fac nt to look at my Sunday were ready. l Jews outside!” n i n e Pol ting: “All u s at m ni en t out sh ated. Po I wen We o’clock e. I did no I went ou , the were outing: “All Je wielding club enes we repe shouting: “All ,o’clock ’ s not ready. t to look t want y. I wen ok at my ySunda shou break int t ad t fir the ’ s wa re st. sc wa re re ws nt p r e v i � scenes an e ad nt no I lo I to o tears. W did outs y. I went to look at b we to ady. p r e v i � We wer to scenesnot w ce. I did u s want e We e remain w sitting in my paren o out first ide!” We wielding clu !” We were re want want w o u s e ed r e � face. I did not wa t’s ’Sundays no to look at m the midd . I did nt to Sunday I did not . I did not ained r e �parent’s fa to tears. the de wa tsi t nt ou no to y street, lik tea in le of th peated. no ’ s m d peat� ws break int scenes t want pa ce rs. We rem e Police� e th st. I di o w g in to brea rent’s face. I t Je d not scenes parent’s fa ars. We re e e d . break ain e e n earlier. Th e others two days m of th Police�to ned sittin et, like did went out fir rent’s face. I di k into w e w i e l d � middle of the ed sitting in the r e � remained sit re We r e � eak into te middle e tears. pa ai m e n ting in peated. street, lik tears. the st The sam same hellish sun ic lnu bg others tw o days wield�rem We look at my peated. br rlier. the the e the Police� street, like th k into of Police� o da e thirst. .w e r e g in e others tw sun. i n gmiddle of o days ea he m e n The e others middle of th to brea in the middle Only th shout� sittin hellish sun ys earlier. The sam w was no tw m e n nt c l u b th sh e sa wa i e l d � rs e tw n. T lli m g ere ys o e hellish one . The tin ei n g da w i e l d � reet, lik days ea w e r ethe othe n g : the me he y there shout� llish su e was sun. Th rlier. remained sit the others two sa water. I loo left to bring us“i A st i n g he re was no same thirst. Only c l u b Only there l l e e same c l u b rlier. The irst. Onl i n g : he sam ked at my was no one left to n. The w y ther us w e r e wate t, like us su nl ee th sh T g O str which I e r e irs “ A l l ea lli on e . house inJo eu wt s� water. I loo th in t. th r. I look he e me to br e in J e w ssame thirst to bring ked at my bring us ishout� had spen e same ed at m left to bring n g : side!” was no shout� i n g : The sa one left o u t � t yearsW e which I ha us earlier. Th Only there y house house in “ A l l had spent y hous e left ked “ A l l side!” d spe t. in whic Je ws w e r e my ye J e w s was no oked at m t years W eno on h I same thirs ing us water. I loo ent o ready. I God, fas nt years seeking o u t � fasting to ha ars seeking u t � I lo ting to s i d e ! ” Mes went my God spen d sp sten th to br s i d e ! ” water. hasten the W e had siah, im e comin , one left e in which I ha g to W coming I e agining w e r e be g of th of the , fastin y hous w e r e which m od to wh lik ready. I Me G e at e y at ssi later. Ye ah, w e n t my life ready. I ing m essiah, w We w ave. e last woul t I fe We wou ent ars seek o u t My mind of the M ould to le be th ck, the be o u t ld be th was em lt little sadn d ye n the coming be th first. I ca e last uld lo e would nine e ess. haste ll!” We pty. “G e wo nine o’c enes we be th at my lif o’cloc e last to leav sto et W wh W e ld od g u up in t . o ! Roll imagin k, th We we e. At A Sunday w ’s sc would n re coun e We e ’s be the leave. s Sunday i c e m e later. W ted. We like W to Policem scenes w previous w u l ave. last to e woul ould e repe to le us leave. previo t e d . P o shouting: en wie e last We wou be theto leav d be ated. last shouti a e t lding be th e last vio A the la to ld be th e. At ng cl n i n e r e p e club wer We were st to ould be th the pre ted. o’cloc . evio e last nine w g were re : “All Jews ou ub were lAe a v etpr ld ” e in u a e! us , o’cloc W e pe ck wo k, the wield s outsid I did tside!” Sund ad k, th W W e W i n ere w o u l d We e o’clo we re were previ� did no y. I went We n first. my w e would o’clock peated. Po ay’s scen in ou b es u s ll Je t e. Atbe the t out es w be the e would be th cl licemen to At n ’s scen ing clu ide!” o Sunda “A y. I wen look at parent want to lo t first. I ,p r e the e last to o’clock, to leav ay’slast v i � ub were e last to ’ s read ’s ok want wie to nd lAe a v et. Sunday n wield s outs t. yscene e last sh u sou leave. th break face. I did no at my o rs s we t want I did not We w be th revious Su enn e Sunday tside!” W outing: “A lding A t we repe e previous leave. At nine fi d Je i n e m t ul e into te u m t want e p Su at ll ’ s n i n e no wo ce. to o’clock Polic g: “All y ars. sitting Police , the to scenesout first. I were ready. Jews o’clock were sh ed. Policem nday’s scen We t’s fa tears. wen e tm r e � n di en es in the We remai ou o’clock repeated. uting: “All,p r e the , the v i � outi ready. I look a t to ep eda t �. paren ak into g in th ned rw e e�my parent d not want I went p street r e v i � were re ting: “All Je wielding cl nine middl Io u s sh e to sho re in bre P o � an , lik ’s fa to ub enes we e of ws outs ady. I peated. o u s were ready. Sunday We we t want not w ed l i c e � to ned sitt et, like th w earlier. e the othe the Police�break into ce. I did no look at Sunday want sc ’ s re no . I did remain m e n remai he g club We were want toscenes rs two to look ent out first ide!” We st t The sa m e n ’ s T in te e w id si r. an ar ld th wield� d tt s. W ie ” t to scenes not days w i e l d � ing in . t at my The sa me he the face e I We earlie me le of e re wan parent I did not w s outside! I did no did notw the i n g w e m lli sa r e � parent’s tears. dle of ys ic lnu bg midd two days ’s face was no e thirst. O sh sun. c l u blike the ot middle of mained r e � remai t to break Jew .I rst. id to . The s da w e r e o the ned si were peated. into te . I did ent out fi ent’s face s. Wepeated. he nly th one le Police� ak in the m ers two n. shout other ellish sun e was n ttin ar ere shout�The same rs two da street, Police� street ft to tear m e n bre n g : me h , like th g in the m ars. We w k at my p ys earl i n g : m e n ther into middle ofw i e l d � tting in the oth ellish su i“ A l lsa ly id o n water. bring us “ A l lthirst. O hellish sun. ak ier. w i e l d � The e dl lo ot re re O h e si i n g e e b hers J e w s irst. of th th nl sa e lik I look T the o ays Je ws i n g u t � th ed at o u t �to bring y there was he same c l u b Onl me hellish su two days ea e want to sitting in ers two d cw le ur be street, he sam Only s u side!” y th rlier T no us n. he s i d e ! ”ho were ed oth st. ng W e use in water. I lo one left shout� water ere was no The same th . remain , like the lish sun. T e shout� rlier. e thir to bri on ir . I look n g : m n i n g : ea et se in el seekin which I ha oked at my i“ A ed at m e left to brin st. the stre he same h e was no o “J eA wl sl The sa one left my hou l l had d g my G at u t � g us er T at t od, fast spent years Jo eu wt s� fa spent year y house in We w rlier. nly th . I looked soi d s no looked e. A e ! ” O ea a w . st s in w hi in st t se side!” o g to ha ch I g leav s I ater ad spen W e thir We w sten W e Mes to hasten eking my At n uld be th w e r e water. same ring us w st to reviou ould I h e e last ine o G si th were e last to p be . he la ’c ready. I wou ah, imagin e coming of od, left to b in which , fasting to to leav Sund ld be th W e W ld be t , the peated ing w , ld be went e ay’s lock, the od e. W Weewou the ah us G k e o si u would r h y c ha sc b lik o es o u t p t my y Police enes e revio w o u l d sadnes gm eM clu ’clo es we e. be the w us be theWe w w life m m s. My later. Yet I seekin ming of th n g last to e o leav ould shou en wield e repeate last felt lit years mind t to evious leave. nin ay’s sce wieldin Jews co s e ting: b ing cl n la d. l e a v to w tle th e in as em A t d the la e. e o We pr he st “All ub w “All y. I We w pty. “G hasten i n g i n e Sun en t st to ’c be t , the eated. n wou e la Jew ere A er et o’cloc olicem uting: ead t gin n i n eSunday’s lock, p leave. uld ld b k e th I did e ready. I s outsid o o the P ima re r th e W e We wo o’cloc we re were k, ld b e!” o’clock went n previ� re sh e we did n , thePolicem scenes e previ At wou es would o lub ine paren ot want W u s we I t’s p r e v i �sh en w ous WWe e we be the At n ’s scen ing c tside!” o to lo ut first. o e!” rst. t’s face Sunda aren u s o re id t ie u p s ld u o p last to k eated w o u l d break y ’ s out . Sundayw ting: “A lding t fi t my break ve. A l e a v e . Sunday en wie ws o first. scene u be the a . o cl into I did not at my ’ le W a s er ll u Je e ’sA b w Jews t k ut to to nt m tears. want sittin scenesn e ready. st to Sunday n ere llast i n e lice : “All went o t my rs ewe� we to loo t want ained outs e a v e . At nine o would be g to w W I eo e la a s g o’clock Po ’clock A t th o e a t � nt em street in the m e remain r e � t want to went out ide!” W n be th previou licemen, the houtin eady. I look t to p i n e scenes , the e last to e d . wa . I did n We r of the e ed peated.fa , li id fi e to revi� s an ould p er Po w o � e earlie ke the o dle of th Police� ce. I did look at rst. I did o’clock “Allp o u s e wer want not w ined P , the wielding e repea revious S leave. We w lock, th eated. l i c e � fac tears. middle s two thers my p not w m e ntears. r. Th ng: ISunday ew t ti W u p r e v i � ’c a id cl p u te o n m e n e o tw d er e ar d o u i e l d � an n d. re The W ay’s nine bw en same o day i n gm th sh ready. ’ s o u s outside! rem .I e into oth me sa we s c l u b iddle e remain t to break t’s Sunday ere scenes I did ’s face s. We of th wield� ” We ere shou Policem i n g ting in the e sa was me thirst hellish su w ed si ting: en scenes club w e were ant tow e into ’ s first. nt of were e r eo no o Th tear iddle days cw leur be sit t, like w I “A r e � are g ne le . Only th n. shout� thers tw the stre tting in th scenes ee arlier. w e parent’ did not w ready. I w ll Jews wieldin ide!” Wdid not did not peated. p eak into the m rs two n. shout r t o day ft to et, li s ere i n g :helli e Police� br s face r e � in ent o ant to n g : ys e outs t. I s earl “A l l sh su .I ke th peated. in e othe ish su “i A em bring e s e n c . W to g u l l rs I w a t Je fa ie n. J e w sther lo fi did n e Police� tears. us o w i e l d � sittin ke th hell here J e w s d nt’s u t � ars. out e was The sam r. The sa ot w ok at m We m mi eel dn� the mid ant to y went my pare into te iddle of ci lnu bg reet, li e same Only t us side!” e rem h W ewater. I no one le thirst. O e w d t g st m . b reak nly ci lnu bg others le of th ained sitt reak look a days w e r e rlier. T thirst the ft loo brin whic to b ing in ers two he shout� ing in h I h ked at to bring i n g : ea same left to house in w e r e helli two day e street nt tt T a my h us shout� th si sh su . ad sp , “ A l l w o s n e y e like earlie n. T ent ye ouse i n g : ther ined like the llish su o J e w s Th no on d at m th a n r. e m h s in e w u t � as Th “A l l e e re ars se et, e he ere wa ed soi d e!” w look eking Jo eu wt s� water as no o same thir e same e stre e sam th ok W e r. I s i d e ! ” I h . I looked ne left to st. Only th ier. Th . Only ter. I lo ent w e r e wate a ad W e at earl thirst b us w ad sp fastin spent year my house ring us me to bring hich I h ing to g to sa in s st whic haste seeking h one left use in w God, fa n th my o y Messi e coming God, at my h king m g of ah, of see min imag the years the co ining en hast We would be
ay’s sce ious Sund
W e w o u ld be the last to leave. At n i n e o’clock , the pre � vi� o W e w o u ld be the last to leave. At n i n e o’clock, e h t pre vio us Sun day ’ s scene s we We re� w o p uld be the last to At leave. e n i n o’clock, the s previou s Sunday’ scenes we . repeated n Po l i ce m e g wieldin club were : shouting “All Jews out sid e!” e W were rea d W y. I e w o uld be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, e h t previous S u n d a y ’s scenes e w r e � pe at We ed. w o P u l d be the last to leave. At n i n e o’clock, t h e pre vio us Sunday’ s scen e s we r
W ewo u ld be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, t h e previous Sunda y ’ s sce ne W s e w o u ld be the last to leave. At n i n e o’clock, e h t previous Sunday’s sce ne s w e re� pe We a w o uld be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, e h t previous S u n d a y ’s scenes we . repeated Po lic em en wielding club were : shouting “All Jews o u t � side!” W e we r
W e wo uld be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, t h e pre vio us Sun day ’s scenes e w r e � pea W t� e w o ul d b e the last to leave. At nine o’c loc k, t h e pre vio us S u n d a y ’ s s ce n e s w
64
We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night. No one was praying for the night to pass quickly. The stars were but sparks of the immense conflagration that was consuming. Were this configuration to be extinguished one day, nothing would be left in the sky but extinct stars and unseeing eye. There was nothing else to do but to go to bed, in the beds of those who had moved on. We needed to rest, to gather our strength. At daybreak, the gloom lifted. The moon was more confident. There were those who said: “Who knows, they may be sending us away for our own good. The front is getting closer, we shall soon hear the guns. And then surely civilian population will be evacuated…” “They worry lest we join the partisans…” “As far as I’m concerned, this whole business of deportation is nothing but a big farce. Don’t laugh. They just want to steal our valuables and jewelry. They know that it has al been buried and that they will have to dig to find it; so much easier to do when the owners are on vacation…” On vacation! This kind of talk that nobody believed helped pass the time. The few days we spent here went by pleasantly enough, in relative calm. People rather got along. There are no distinction between rich and poor, notables and others; we were all people condemned to the same fate�still unknown.ing club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not We would be the last to leave. At nine o’clock, the previous Sunday’s scenes we repeated. Policemen wielding club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not want to look at my parent’s face. I did not want to break into tears. We remained sitting in the middle of the street, like the others two days earlier. The same hellish sun. The same thirst. Only there was no one left to bring us water. I looked at my house in which I had spent years seeking my God, fasting to hasten the coming of the Messiah, imagining what my life would be like later. Yet I felt little sadness. My mind was empty. “Get up! Roll call!” We stood. We were counted. We sat down. We got up again. Over and over. We waited impatiently to be taken away. What were they waiting for? Finally, the order came: “Forward! March!” My father was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry. I had never though it possible. As for my mother, she was walking, her face a mask, without a word, deep in thought. I looked at my little sister, Tzipora, her blond hair neatly combed, her red coat over her arm: a little girl of seven. On her back a bag too heavy for her. She was clenching her teeth; she already knew it was useless to complain. Here and there, the police were lashing out with their clubs: “Faster!” I had no strength left. The journey had just begun and I already felt so weak…“Faster! Faster! Move, you lazy good�for�nothings!” the Hungarian police were screaming. That was when I began to hate them, and my hatred remains our only link today. They were our first oppressors. They were the first faces of hell and death. They ordered us to run. We began to run. Who would have though that we were so strong? From behind their windows, from behind their shutters, our fellow citizens watched as we passed. We finally arrived at our destination Throwing down our bundles, we dropped to the ground: “Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion, have mercy on us…” Night. No one was praying for the night to pass quickly. The stars were but sparks of the immense conflagration that was consuming. Were this configuration to be extinguished one day, nothing would be left in the sky but extinct stars and unseeing eye. There was nothing else to do but to go to bed, in the beds of those who had moved on. We needed to rest, to gather our strength. At daybreak, the gloom lifted. The moon was more confident. There were those who said: “Who knows, they may be sending us away for our own good. The front is getting closer, we shall soon hear the guns. And then surely civilian population will be evacuated…” “They worry lest we join the partisans…” “As far as I’m concerned, this whole business of deportation is nothing but a big farce. Don’t laugh. They just want to steal our valuables and jewelry. They know that it has al been buried and that they will have to dig to find it; so much easier to do when the owners are on vacation…” On vacation! This kind of talk that nobody believed helped pass the time. The few days we spent here went by pleasantly enough, in relative calm. People rather got along. There are no distinction between rich and poor, notables and others; we were all people condemned to the same fate�still unknown.ing club were shouting: “All Jews outside!” We were ready. I went out first. I did not
What were they waiting for?
Fin a
lly,
th
eo
rd
er
cam
e:
“Forward! March!”
65
“Always be curious. Never be satisfied.” - Seth Johnson