Thursday, January 26, 2012
Diary received the 25 Dec 1944
In the middle of the war, among the snippers falling on our house, writing in the basement where we were hidden.
My mother offering me a diary that probably she baught a long way back, to incite me to write and speak less to those around us, from whom we had secrets we could not tell.
A few lines from time to time, speaking of what went on around me.
I never stopped writing. Now, 67 years of diaries, more or less distance between each time I wrote, in some beautiful notebooks or small very modest ones. I kept on writing, I keep on writing.
Nowadays, more and more in my blogs, in my stories, my gigs, but still, some still goes in the last diary.