He put his face to the glass and saw what was out there, and this time when his eyes opened wide and his mouth made the shape of an O, his hands stayed by his sides because something made him feel very cold and unsafe.
Why do they hate us so much anyway?’ I asked after a lengthy pause. ‘If they’re not queer themselves, then what does it matter to them if someone else is?’ ‘I remember a friend of mine once telling me that we hate what we fear in ourselves,’ she said with a shrug.
But for all that we had, for all the luxury to which we were accustomed, we were both denied love, and this deficiency would be scorched into our futures lives like an ill-considered tattoo inscribed on the buttocks after a drunken night out, leading each of us inevitably toward isolation and disaster.
I’m not praying,” she said. “I’m remembering. Sometimes the two things look alike, that’s all.
Here’s a tip though’, he told me, leaning over and pressing a hand into my shoulder. ‘If you want to improve your time, run faster.
Do you watch Neighbors, Cyril?” “Well, I’ve seen it,” I admitted. “Although I wouldn’t go so far as to say I watch it.
Do you watch Neighbors, Cyril?” “Well, I’ve seen it,” I admitted. “Although I wouldn’t go so far as to say I watch it.” “You should. It’s magnificent. Shakespearean in its characterization.
I think Maurice is whatever he needs to be, whenever he needs to be it. He’s an operator, that’s for sure.
And that’s the end of the story about Bruno and his family. Of course all this happened a long time ago and nothing like that could ever happen again. Not in this day and age.
Natuurlijk gebeurde dit allemaal heel lang geleden en kan zoiets nu niet meer gebeuren. Niet in onze tijd.
It was the fact that I didn’t want to kill anyone. I wasn’t put on this earth to murder my fellow man. I’d grown up with violence – can’t you see that? I can’t bear it.
His position, like so many of his ilk, was one of uncontested and unearned respect.
Fences such as the one at the heart of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas still exist; it is unlikely that they will ever fully disappear. But whatever reaction you have to this story, I hope that the voices of Bruno and Shmuel will continue to resonate with you as they have with me. Their lost voices must continue to be heard; their untold stories must continue to be recounted. For they represent the ones who didn’t live to tell their stories themselves.
This deficiency would be scorched into our future like an ill-considered tattoo.
I stood up and offered not a prayer, for that was of no use to anyone, but a moment of contemplation.
They sat there in ascending order of age and stupidity.
But what about school?’ said Bruno, interrupting her, a thing he knew he was not supposed to do but which he felt he would be forgiven for on this occasion. ‘And what about Karl and Daniel and Martin? How will they know where I am when we want to do things together?
I need to get back to the office. Those windows won’t stare out themselves all afternoon.
Every man is afraid of women as far as I can see.
Most men are not as smart as women and yet they continue to hold all the power. They fear a change of the world order.