September 29: Papa is so happy he no longer has to work the fish market. He hated how his hands always smelled like fish.

October 12: Momma begs Papa to leave for England with the rest, but he refuses. We now spend lots of time playing and singing. I am hungry, but we are together more often. It is worth it to me.

November 25: I want to leave now, too. Sounds from the east crawl along the ground, and then up my neck.....

December 11: An airplane crashed near our home. Bernard raced outside to help the survivors. Papa chased after him -- telling him not to go. I followed after, down to the courtyard engulfed in smoke and fire. I didn't see them, but I could hear them arguing. A shrieking sound erupted from inside the airplane, and Bernard starting screaming. Papa ran out of the flames, cupped his hands over my face, and dragged me away...It's odd, so many months has passed, and Papa's hands still smelled like fish.

-- Neelie Klaveren, Rotterdam, Netherlands

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