How she loved her children so much that, like Moses’s mother, she gave them away. But for now, they were mine: my charge, my responsibility, my promise to Sala, a woman I had loved. I held their hands as we walked through the Chłodna Street gate. It was strange and immediate how the air outside the ghetto was cooler, cleaner. The noises on the street were of automobile traffic and bicycle bells. The boys’ faces were impassive and still.
