During my dire days in WW ll many times I was separated from my parents and I felt like an orphan, now I have come to terms with my plight. All I had left was my faith, hope and will to survive. It was a lone walk filled with ordeals. By nature a child is a care-giver, I hung on to my small stone that I found in the ashes of my childhood home. It became a “living thing” to me whom I took care of, in return it gave me strength to endure the moral stupor of the attackers and helped me not to break my spirit. My book is apolitical and the people are caught in a vicious game by powers. I was moved from shelter to shelter, during the war as well as post-war. I was blessed with having people around me who were understanding and kind. Most of the time I actually loved to stay there, but was mercilessly moved to another shelter. I came to the point of asking myself: “where are they going to take me now?” By no means I would ever accuse anybody in respect with the move, I had no choice and nowhere to go. I recall that many times I would just keep running and never look back.I would run and hide in a church or to some park where I felt that now I was not alone anymore. The soft breeze would feel like a loving embrace. The most sorrowful thing was that I missed my parents, I had to set my feelings aside and remember that the war was raging through Europe, the only question was: “will be there a tomorrow?”
