Murder of Children
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The murder of children during the Holocaust is what haunts me the most. Sometimes I try to be poetic and philosophical when I try to memorialize them, but often seeing the raw cold data is the most effective way to remember these young innocent lives. So many futures were destroyed. The picture above is from
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Will this be the last Sun light I see? I did see the sunbeams through the cracks on the train. They shone on the people in the wagon, Some did not move, They were asleep my mother said, but I don’t believe her Will this be the last fresh air I breathe? On the
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You hate me simply because I am a Jew. You hate me just because I am not a pure Aryan. Yet by your own definition I look more Aryan then your leader, the same man who has told you to hate me. You hate me because you lack the intellectual capacity to recognize that your
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I wish I could say that, despite the horrors inflicted during the Holocaust, humanity somehow managed to restore itself. But I would be lying. How can we claim that, knowing that 1.5 million children were brutally murdered in the most inhumane ways imaginable? Children like Greetje Leger, who has been reduced to a statistic: “Reached
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I will not be silenced, no matter how often people try to silence me. I will not be silenced despite the threats. I will not be silenced although a small voice in my head sometimes says, “just give up”, but there is a louder voice screaming “No you fool, you have to keep going. You
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Your killing me did not stop your hate. Hate is like a disease, a cancer—it eats at you bit by bit, and the more you hate, the sicker you get. Hate is like a tumour in your head. It drives you insane up to the point that you don’t even realize anymore that killing an
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Philip Wallage was born in Groningen on 12 July 1927. He was murdered at Sobibor on 26 March 1943. He was 15 years old upon his death. Rosalien Wallage was born in Groningen on 15 May 1932. She was murdered at Sobibor on 26 March 1943. She reached 10 years of age. Elisabeth Wallage was
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Rest in peace little one, but how can you? You did not ask to be born but yet you were. But that was good because it was because of the love between two people, you came to be. You were so wanted. A blessing to be seen by every one. Rest in peace little one.
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When the rain falls, my face gets wet. When the sun shines, it blinds my eyes. When the snow falls, I want to go out and feel the crunch of the fresh new snow beneath my feet. When it is muddy, I get dirty. When I am hungry, I eat. When I am thirsty, I
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I was going to write an article about Ursula Gerson, who was murdered in Auschwitz on September 6, 1944, at the age of 8. But then I saw there were more Dutch Jewish children and Jewish refugees, who fled Germany and Austria with their parents, who were murdered that day. Duifje Gans was murdered in
History of Sorts 
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