The cherished objects we had brought with us this far were left behind in the train, and with them, at last, our illusions.
Every two yards or so an SS man held his tommy gun trained on us. Hand in hand we followed the crowd. An SS non-commissioned officer came to meet us, a truncheon in his hand. He gave the order: 'Men to the left! Women to the right!'
Eight words spoken quietly, indifferently, without emotion. Eight short, simple words. Yet that was the moment I parted from my mother. I had not had time to think, but I already felt the pressure of my father's hand: we were alone. For a part second I glimpsed my mother and my sisters moving away to the right...i saw them disappear into the distance,; my mother was stroking my sister's fair hair, as though to protect her, while I walked on with my father and other men. And I did not know, in that place, at that moment, I was parting from my mother and Tzipora forever. I went on walking. My father held my hand.
So this was where we were going. A little farther on was a larger ditch for adults. I pinched my face. Was I still alive? Was I awake? I could not believe it. How could it be possible for them to burn people, children and for the world to keep silent?
Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever.
Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity of the desire to live.
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