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But as they slunk deeper into the alley for a way to escape, they didn’t just leave Maria behind; they also left their childhood, their innocence. It had been sloughed off, a husk which was now too small to ever fit again, leaving them raw and vulnerable in this dangerous new world of war. Whatever happened next, they would never be the same.
“Books are the perfect conduit to convey a message to the world. It could be an idea that blossoms into a way of life. It could be a new theory for mankind to explore. It could be a journey of life that few have trod. When you have something to tell, it will simply burst from you and you won’t be able to stop it.”
“I want to feel everything we’ve been through.” Zofia fisted her hand. “I want to be enraged by injustice and let myself mourn for those who are lost. How can we see wrong if we let ourselves go numb?”
“And by taking away pain,” Kasia added, “they also eliminated the opportunity to love.”
After all, they were not only reading books that should be destroyed; they were discussing ideals that Hitler was determined to pull out by the roots, to stamp out of existence until minds were left without free thought.
She wanted to stay in those memories forever, those everyday moments that she had taken for granted. They had been boring then, her thoughts fixed on faults rather than love. It had all been so simple. So perfect. It had been beautiful.
Back then, she hadn’t experienced enough of life to truly appreciate music in the way Papa had. But that had been before she’d known how deep the chasm of loss could run.
to truly write emotion, one must die a thousand deaths. Perhaps this was what she meant, that in enduring the rawness of life, one could finally cherish what was so often overlooked.
That was one of the things Zofia appreciated about the friendship she’d developed with Darek. They could lose themselves in their thoughts together in companionable silence.
