Dog Has Eaten Sanitary

His Memorial Day

In this story the Jews are not there. I'm only a faint presence, a long line of distant shadows, moving in the background. A slight movement is completely silent. It is now clear that attendance is lost in the shadows of twilight, the horizon of clouds. They are so inconsistent that no longer distinguish the faces, women from men, the older children. It 'still the word. Jews. That no one pronunciation.

When he vanished in Saxony, not far from Dresden, the land still spared from the war, has long Judenrein . September 1944. Free of Jews. It is finished. Gauleiter Martin Mutschmann is a loyalist. His work, he wants to be known, can do it well. The boy, who came from a village far from the world, did not know that a barred window in the center of Koenigsbrueck might once have belonged to a family that was now scomprsa, forgotten. Or that a shop or a pharmacy or a doctor's office, had replaced the people with their human components of a presumed pure breed. He could not imagine that the streets were missing the extras, rare, but these rabbis with long beards attravresavano the street greeting friends in Germany. She could not know of curly peota sticking out from under his skullcap in a group of boys who attained a Talmudic school.

In his country there were Jews. People looking unrecognizable from other farmers, or farmers or traders. They did not go to mass, that yes. The only difference. Then they were displaced. The only displaced from the countryside to cities, while others, those of a pure breed allegedly fleeing the bombing of the city to the countryside. Did not return. Perhaps disgust or perhaps deported.


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