We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.

There were stars. They burned my eyes.

I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.

A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)

I just know that right now, we want to be proud. For once. We want to take the struggle and rise above it. We want to frame it, live it, survive it. We want to put it in our mouths and taste it and never forget it, because it makes us strong.

I always marvel at the humans' ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces.

The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.