![]() Other people call this giggle different names, but it never even crosses their minds that it’s just that: a giggle. Sometimes I think the water in the drainpipes giggles. People might laugh at me, but sometimes I think inanimate objects can talk. ![]() They all run down, as if they wanted to drop onto the wet, muddy street, as if they wanted to make it even dirtier, as if they wanted to make this day ugly, even uglier than it already is. On rainy days, I stand by the window and count the tears trickling down the windowpane. Oh, dear diary, if you could only know how hard it is to want something so badly, to work so hard for it and then be denied it at the finishing line! What was it actually that I wanted? I don’t know. Oberhard, was all over Brühla, sweet-talking her as much as she could, which, of course, would be sure to benefit Irka and her younger sister in the near future. But for the umpteenth time, I thought, “I wish Mamma were here.” Irka’s mother, Mrs. It was a great party and everyone, especially Brühla, had a wonderful time. We’ve fought and disagreed, but the party is on for this coming Saturday. We’ve been planning a party for months now. That-combined with her disgusting sweet-talking, lying and insincerity-made me genuinely hate her. I started disliking Irka even more when she began undermining me at school. I inherited this hatred: My mamma didn’t like Irka’s mother much when they were in middle school. The next girl in our row is Belka-fat and stocky like 300 devils! She has an exceptional talent for academics and an even more exceptional talent for earning dislike. We tried to get his address through the address bureau, but we didn’t succeed because we don’t know his actual name. We call her “Brühla.” Brühla is the wife of a handsome officer who lives in Lwow. At our school, the girls often get “crushes” on our teachers, so Nora and I have a crush, a real one (some girls do it just to butter the teachers up) on our Latin teacher, Mrs. We share all the same thoughts and opinions. So many! Let me introduce some of my classmates to you. ![]() The distance and darkness outside the doorīut I also have joyous moments, and there are so many of them. The linden trees, house, storks and butterfliesįa r. I miss the house where we all lived together. That’s why sometimes I get so sad that I have to cry. Now I live in Przemysl, at my grandmother’s house. And the Dniester River, which flows, distant, strange and cold-which hums, but not for me anymore. All that remain are memories, sweet and lovely. There is no manor house anymore, no storks on old linden trees, no apples or flowers. ![]() Apples glistened in the orchard, and I had a garden with neat, charming rows of flowers. I used to live in a beautiful manor house on the Dniester River. I have a little sister, Ariana, who wants to be a movie star. My name is Renia, or at least that is what my friends call me. I’m a student at the Maria Konopnicka Middle School for Girls. You will not betray me.įirst of all, allow me to introduce myself. In return, you’ll listen to my thoughts and concerns, but you’ll remain silent like an enchanted book, locked up with an enchanted key and hidden in an enchanted castle. In any case, I promise to always be honest with you. Who knows how long it will last? It might even continue until the end of our lives. Today, my dear diary, is the beginning of our deep friendship. No human being could ever be that kind of friend. Somebody who will feel what I feel, believe what I say and never reveal my secrets. Somebody I can talk to about my everyday worries and joys. Why did I decide to start a diary today? Has something important happened? Have I discovered that my friends are keeping diaries of their own? No! I just want a friend. Along with the diary excerpts below, we’ve added red type with contextual dates of the history of how World War II came to Poland, as the Nazis invaded from the west and the Soviets from the east, deporting, imprisoning and murdering Jews in cities like Przemsyl, where Spiegel lived and perished. To learn the backstory of Spiegel’s life and how her words found their way to our pages, we invite you to read this prologue by journalist Robin Shulman. From the Editors: Translated from Polish for the first time, the diary of Renia Spiegel presents us with a striking first-person narrative of life as a young Jew during World War II.
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