The Tattooist of Auschwitz
Heather Morris

The Tattooist of Auschwitz

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“And that makes her a hero. You’re a hero, too, my darling. That the two of you have chosen to survive is a type of resistance to these Nazi bastards. Choosing to live is an act of defiance, a form of heroism.”

“You must first learn to listen to her. Even if you are tired, never be too tired to listen to what she has to say. Learn what she likes and, more important, what she doesn’t like. When you can, give her little treats—flowers, chocolates. Women like those things.”

The tattooing has taken only seconds, but Lale’s shock makes time stand still. He grasps his arm, staring at the number. How can someone do this to another human being? He wonders if for the rest of his life, be it short or long, he will be defined by this moment, this irregular number: 32407.

As they disappear into the darkness, Lale makes a vow to himself: I will live to leave this place. I will walk out a free man. If there is a hell, I will see these murderers burn in it.

How can a race that is spread out across multiple countries be considered a threat? For as long as he lives, be it short or long, he knows he will never comprehend this.

“How can you just pack and sing?” With a big smile on her face she said that when you spend years not knowing if in five minutes’ time you will be dead, there is not much that you can’t deal with. She said, “As long as we are alive and healthy, everything will work out for the best.”

Politics will help you understand the world until you don’t understand it anymore, and then it will get you thrown into a prison camp. Politics and religion both.”

I went to my mother and asked her how she and my father had managed to stay together for so many years. Her response was very simple: “Nobody is perfect. Your father has always taken care of me since the first day we met in Birkenau. I know he is not perfect, but I also know he will always put me first.”

“You see your world reflected in a mirror, but I have another mirror,” Lale says. Baretski stops. He looks at Lale, and Lale holds his stare. “I look into mine,” says Lale, “and I see a world that will bring yours down.” Baretski smiles. “And do you think you will live to see that happen?” “Yes, I do.” Baretski places his hand on his holstered pistol. “I could shatter your mirror right now.” “You won’t do that.”

“If you wake up in the morning, it is a good day.”