bangingonkeyboards

 My biological mother’s name is Anna and my father is Peter. They met in high school when she was sixteen. He was her first kiss, I think. I’m not sure if she was his. At the time of my conception, they had known each other for two years. I don’t know why he was home from college in the middle of a semester, but I imagine that my mother was the light in the dark depths of February, I imagine it had something to do with her her thick curls, her hazel eyes, her tender mouth shaped just like mine, here. I imagine it was her laugh that he loved the most. My mother did not laugh when I came into this world and into her hands. Sh

Chapter Nine Two Months Before April Rosie Mike tutors me in Spanish as finals draw near. I'm absolutely shit at it, with a terrible accent and no memory for vocabulary, but he's boy genius when it comes to this foreign tongue. Kara doesn't like it particularly much, gets jealous at the slightest provocation, but when it comes down to it, it's me her best friend and she doesn't want me to flunk out of the tenth grade. And that's how it's come to be, Mike and me meeting on Saturdays, armed with vocabulary flashcards and channel 4 Spanish television (for the pronunciation, Mike says, though I kind of just think he likes to watch the big bre

 My biological mother’s name is Anna and my father is Peter. They met in high school when she was sixteen. He was her first kiss, I think. I’m not sure if she was his. At the time of my conception, they had known each other for two years. I don’t know why he was home from college in the middle of a semester, but I imagine that my mother was the light in the dark depths of February, I imagine it had something to do with her her thick curls, her hazel eyes, her tender mouth shaped just like mine, here. I imagine it was her laugh that he loved the most. My mother did not laugh when I came into this world and into her hands. Sh

It is no easy question to ask. It is no small feat to put oneself in the shoes of a person who bore so much pain and suffering. Some question if it is even possible. In answering Wiesenthal's question, I can only say what I hope I would have done, for I have little idea of the true strength it would take. So here it is: I would not have forgiven Karl. I would have had no right. Karl's crime was committed against the Jews, yes, but not against Wiesenthal in particular. Forgiveness cannot be granted by one not directly involved in the horrendous incident. If Simon were to have given Karl his forgiveness for the incident which plagued the SS m

i saw you today and you look so thin now i would feed you my heart if you’d let me i would steal you the marrow of my bones you’ve already taken so very much from me but still i am willing to throw my very own self into the fire i’d hand you the knife and let you carve the meat from my bones