I don't remember breathing.
My coffee grew cold, abandoned in my cup.
With the first few images of Cilka's Journey burned into my soul, I entered her world easily. From what should have been a release from the concentration camp to a horrific tumble into a forced labor one, I stayed right with Cilka, my heart breaking each step of the way.
I felt.
I saw.
I cried.
I need more.
My coffee grew cold, abandoned in my cup.
With the first few images of Cilka's Journey burned into my soul, I entered her world easily. From what should have been a release from the concentration camp to a horrific tumble into a forced labor one, I stayed right with Cilka, my heart breaking each step of the way.
I felt.
I saw.
I cried.
I need more.