Agnesa Kalinova

  MY SEVEN LIVES   The second of three excerpts from Agneša Kalinová’s memoirs Agneša Kalinová in conversation with Jana...
Continue Reading

Agnesa Kalinova

Then came the day that the decree ordering the deportation of Jewish girls was issued. It was in all the papers and probably also posted all around town.All I know is that we didn’t receive any summons at home. But we knew that all unmarried Jewish girls and young women between the ages of 16 and 30 were to report to the courtyard of the Reform primary school that I had attended as a child.

David Jan Zak

Hasil knows that they might succumb to the cold and not make it. He prefers not to think about that eventuality and takes them along the forest trail. He’ll risk it. So long as the patrol times haven’t changed, they ought to make it.

Pavel Vilikovsky

It is one of the little tricks we humans play: whenever something is beyond us, we invent a name for it, at the very least, or borrow one from some ancient language, and we feel more secure straight away.

Aditya Desai

There was word that the mafia was behind it, which meant Muslims, and the cranky old sores of centuries past were seeping again, and blood was due to flow again in the streets, despite the bodies that were already being carted off.

Cherise Oakley

I pray. I pray for the future of my daughters. I cannot pass it on. I pray that my children grant me grace.

J. R. Pick

Now, Tony lay on his back in the sick room in L 315, watching a fly on the ceiling. The fly was clearly bored. This was no surprise to Tony. He was bored too.

Eva Peterfy-Novak

He looked back at me, he was taking note of the moment in his head. The moment the fairy tale crumbled.

Pavol Rankov

I’m not convinced of anything. I don’t trust my memory, which tells me that the entire village gathered in front of the house that night. They had come to do something bad. I can still see the whole thing. A tribal ritual.

Andrei Konchalovsky

My very notion of our entire twenty-year relationship went straight to the depths of Hell. None of the roses I had sent her over the years — to her home, to her dressing room — could explain, could excuse, such a colossal misunderstanding.

Designed by B O D Y | Powered by Data3s