Tattered memories: My first language, now long faded. A fence, reassuringly high, around a garden where time slept. Day trips through virgin forests, gathering wild berries and mushrooms. Suddenly, columns of soldiers goose-stepping in lock-step like a well-oiled machine. A week-long Atlantic crossing. Asking where, asking why. Getting no answers.
Alex has faint memories of 1930s Czechoslovakia.
Powerful imagery and full emotional impact in 50 words! Beautiful.
Thanks, Laura Jo.
World War Two had then begun. “Asking where, asking why. Getting no answers”… But alive, to compare with those who didn’t ask anything then.
Yes indeed. My family and I escaped from 1939 Czechoslovakia.