Tears of Amber

by Sofía Segovia

How could you not cry, the first time the light hits your eyes, or the first time you feel the dry brush of the air on your skin? How could you not cry when your lungs are filled with cold, unfamiliar oxygen, or when the soft sounds that used to reach your flooded ears arrive hard, unfiltered? How could you not protest when the world turns infinite and does nothing to contain the body that, until that day, had been so tightly held, so closely hugged in the dark softness of your mother’s interior?

children never learn as much as in the first three years of life.

Germany had swallowed them up. And he himself had helped pave the way, because he had believed; he’d raised his voice and his arm, intoxicated by the Führer’s vision. He’d handed over everything, even his free will, even his peace of mind. It was too late.

They were dying from broken promises.

He’d always lived by the Commandments, but it was easy to do when his character wasn’t put to the test. He realized that he didn’t know how many of those divine rules he’d be capable of breaking to protect his family from hunger or cold.

After years of relative peace in the war, in the blink of an eye, her life had been reduced to that: to understanding that the only treasure worth anything is life.

What kind of war was won by an army that killed its own men and left them hanging as a warning?

while there was darkness, there were always faint rays of light for those ready to see.

Rudyard Kipling said that if history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.