The first day of spring. What a paradox. Spring and frost. Spring and captivity. We weren’t expecting it to be like that. It was supposed to be brought by the radiant, shining sun, a line of chirping silver birds, at the sight of which I expressed the view that they were filling me with a sense of security, the whirr of tanks crashing fences bordered by a white strip (just like the one on my right arm) and, above all bearing freedom. So childishly and naively dreamed even the old, while starving and freezing, confidently waiting for spring during really harsh winter.
It has come. It was preceded by lines of ravens, these ominous messengers, loudly cawing about hunger, disease and death.
Elza Binder (Eliszewa), 21st March, 1942, Stanisławów
E. Binder, J. Feuerman, “Two Diaries from Witnesses and Victims of Extermination of the Jews of Stanislawow, 2011”, Montreal 2008; diary from the JHI’s collections