I wrote this memoir in the spirit of a Holocaust survivor: after enduring such an ordeal, the need to bear witness is strong. This happened; the world must know.

It’s not as if I were going to learn anything from writing this book. No, surely after years of therapy, I’ve gleaned all possible lessons. It’s the world that needs educating, not me.

Or so I thought. But then, why was it so hard to write certain stories so that they made sense?