Xenia Bard

“Remove this quote from your collection
“They trod into Majdanek, which had been liberated by the Soviets barely three days earlier. The Nazi camp lay on a plate-flat field of brown-green grass and its squat, long green barracks looked almost like camouflage. Alexander smelled the acrid-sweet smell of burning flesh in the air, but said nothing, though by the gradual quieting down in his tank and around his formations, he could tell his men smelled it, too.
"Why did they want us to come here?" asked Telikov, coming up to Alexander and staring with him at the city of Lublin through the barbed wire fence. Lublin was just over the field and down a slope.
"The high command wants us to see what we're dealing with as we force our way into Germany," said Alexander. "So we don't feel pity for the Germans."
Ouspensky asked if the residents of Lublin could smell what he smelled, and Alexander replied that they had probably been smelling it every day for months.
The camp was small and seemed almost serene-as if the humanity had left it, leaving behind only ghosts-
And ash-
And bones-
And blue remnants of Zyclon B gas on the concrete walls.
Femur bones, and clavicles
And spy holes in steel doors.
A "bathhouse" on one side of the small camp.
And ovens with one long tall chimney stack on the other.
A road that connected them.
Barracks that divided them.
A commandant's house.
SS barracks.
And nothing else.
The men walked through slowly and silently, and then bent their heads, and finally, standing at the back of the camp, they took off their caps.
"Can't pretend this was a forced labor camp, can you?" Ouspensky said to Alexander.
"No, can't.”
― Paullina Simons, By PAULLINA SIMONS - Tatiana and Alexander (2003) [Paperback]

“Is this the police? Did they come to inform me that Jay is missing or injured or killed??? Or maybe it's the delivery from Amazon with the book I ordered, "How to Be Optimistic?”
― Harper Ford, Divorced [Not Dead]

“How many shoes you think there are here?" asked Ouspensky.
"What am I, a mathematician?" snapped Alexander. "Hundreds of thousands, I would guess."
They left the camp silently and didn't stop at the barbed wire fence to glance at the steeple churches of Catholic Lublin just a couple of kilometers away.
"Who do you think they did that to, Captain? Poles?"
"Hmm. Poles, yes. Mainly Jewish Poles, I think," Alexander replied. "The command won't say, though. They don't want the Soviet army to be less outraged."
"How long do you think it took them?" asked Ouspensky.
"Majdanek became operational eight months ago. Two hundred and forty days. Slightly less time than it takes one woman to make one life, they managed to snuff out a million and a half lives."
No one spoke until they were a kilometer away.”
― Paullina Simons, By PAULLINA SIMONS - Tatiana and Alexander (2003) [Paperback]

“Tonight," began Potapov, his wrinkled nose twitching above his thin lips, "we plan to pass a new resolution, not just for Ispas, but for all the villages in the region. Effective immediately and until further notice, every horse breeder, like you, Comrade Lazar, will not just try, but will ensure—no, he will guarantee—the pregnancy and birth of all female horses!" The fifty people in the hall fell silent, and Potapov asked, "Is that clear? Is there anything unclear in my words?"
"Anything unclear in my words?" Isabel echoed him.
"Yes, Comrade Potapov," Roman replied. "There are some unclear aspects." Isabelle and Sissy pinched him, and Isabelle mimicked Potapov's grating tenor, "One hundred percent pregnancy and birth of all female horses!" Sissy nearly burst into laughter. Roman detached himself from his wife and sister and strode to the aisle between the benches, where he could speak without their interruptions.
"You claim to be an animal husbandry expert from Moscow?" Roman inquired. "Please enlighten us on how to achieve such remarkable outcomes."
Ostap stood up—Ostap, who never spoke at these meetings! Even Yana was taken aback. "Excuse me," Ostap said, seemingly astonished at his own audacity, "but is that what they call female horses in Moscow, 'women mares'? Because here in Ukraine, we simply call them 'mares'."
"Never mind that," dismissed Potapov.
"And by the way, mares don't 'give birth'," Ostap added, his eyes ablaze with animosity and his voice dripping with scorn. "They foal."
"Let's proceed," Potapov gestured towards the Lazar family members seated with Mirik and Petka. "Comrade Zhuk has informed me about you, the Lazar family," he stated. Petka immediately stood up and moved to another seat. Mirik also shifted his chair slightly further away—just a few centimeters, but it was enough! He distanced himself so as not to be associated with the troublesome Lazars, Isabelle realized. Incredible. As problematic as his wife.”
― Paullina Simons, Light at Lavelle