For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snaches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.
No,” I tell him, “I won’t. I won’t be okay just for the sake of it. Not anymore.
That is the best I can do – watch it fall into line with everything else I spectated during that time.
He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
For me, the sky was the color of Jews.
I say His name in a futile attempt to understand. “But it’s not your job to understand.” That’s me who answers. God never says anything. Tou think you’re the only one he never answers?
There was the chaos of goodbye.
On Friday a statement arrived to say that Hans Hubermann was to be drafted into the German army. A member of the Party would be happy to play a role in the war effort, it concluded. If he wasn’t, there would certainly be consequences.
He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words.
Fingers touch the pages. They turn me. I continue on. I always do. All is big. The.
The dilemma, of course, was the communism. A single great idea. A thousand limits and flaws. Growing up, Penelope never noticed. What child ever does? There was nothing to compare it to.
No, I’m not a saint, Sophie. I’m just another stupid human.” We smile a last smile, and I walk away. I feel her watching me, but I don’t look back.
The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hands to touch.
Another ten minutes, the gates of thievery would open just a crack, and Lisa Meminger would widen them a little further and squeeze through.
Still, I walk on, through a dream that takes me through these pages. I.
Burning words were torn from their sentences.
I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain.
But as they walked on, they stopped several times, to listen. They thought they could hear voices and words behind them, on the word shaker’s tree.
It was November 3 and the floor of the train held onto his feet.
This isn’t about words. It’s about glowing lights and small things that are big.