Murder of a child
-
There is a beautiful Irish song, written and composed by Jimmy McCarthy, called “My Wonder Child.” Below is part of the song text. “This child he means the world to me There is no more enchanted A child can take this place of ruin And magically enhance it.” This really applies to every child ever…
-
I wish I could tell you beautiful stories about the artist Lunek Milch I wish I could tell you beautiful stories about the scientist Lunek Milch I wish I could tell you beautiful stories about the Doctor Lunek Milch I wish I could tell you beautiful stories about the janitor Lunek Milch I wish I…
-
The picture above is a baby picture of Milda Sykora. A brilliant scientist and researcher. At a young age she had set herself the task to find out what triggered the unset of Rheumatoid Arthritis. She had seen several people in her family suffer what the disease for which there is no cure. Tirelessly she…
-
We will never see you smile again Your life ended before my life began We will never hear you sing again. Your were 7 when you took your last breath. Not because you were ill. No the opposite was true you were full of life and energy. It was evil men and women who wanted…
-
Ik draag een gele ster. Waarom? Kenden zij mij dan van te voren niet? De kinderen bij mij in de buurt hebben geen gele ster. Ben ik anders? En als dat zo is, hoe ben ik dan anders? Ik adem de zelfde lucht, ik lees dezelfde boeken en speel met hetzelfde speelgoed. Ik zie hetzelfde…
-
This doll belonged to a 7 year old Belgian girl her name was Aline Klajn. I could say 2 things about Aline. I could say she was from Polish parents and I could also say she was Jewish. But none of that warranted her death, but yet it did. She was killed because she was…
-
Your smiley face makes me cry. It makes me cry because I know you were born on June 13,1942 in The Hague , the Netherlands and you were killed June 11,1943 in Sobibor. You were not even given the opportunity to blow one candle on your first birthday cake. I cry but I no longer…
-
I can never understand hate. I can’t understand hating a human being I don’t know. I just can’t and I never will. I understand love I understand love but can’t describe that warm feeling when you are close to someone you love. I can understand that feeling when you look at a baby, so pure…
-
I often come across people who seek my advice. Not that I am counselor or a psycho therapist, I don’t qualify for any of that. But for some reason people know I have had a life full of experiences. They often tell me “life isn’t fair” and I sometimes reply £Life is not supposed to…
-
I am Fanny Cogan. I was born on Saturday November 27,1937. Born in the city by the Seine, Paris, the city of love. And I was loved by those who knew me and saw me. I was born on the same day as the revue Pins and Needles premiered at the Labor Stage Theatre on…
You must be logged in to post a comment.