I have only one memory -- crawling on the barrack floor, because I no longer could walk. There was a faucet on the other end of the barrack. As I was crawling, I would fade in and out of consciousness. I just kept thinking, I must survive, I must survive.
I sat on a pillowed bench in the Catskills. It was mid-July in the mountains: the trees were ridiculously green; the hummingbirds sipped sugar water. The prospect before me -- attempting Millie's experience at Auschwitz -- it seemed simply absurd.