Communion

tom:6.0pt;text-indent:35.4pt;line-height: 150%">It was a taste of faith, in life, in victory, that there were new opportunities to be discovered, to which we had to respond, that we had to bring with us.

It was a taste of love, which, in spite of everything, had to remain our inner sun, which no one – no night in this world – has the power to extinguish.

We have someone to love. We have someone and something to live for. Yet today we are uprooted, forced emigrants, driftwood carried to foreign lands, dressed in other people's worn clothes, embedded in the destinies of other families, other cities, other countries. We will learn to live on – getting up after a fall, taking our first timid steps, listening to the rustle of the wind in other languages and speaking with that wind, noticing the ‘Lady with an Ermine’ in the museum, allowing ourselves sweets…

Finishing our first emigrant wine, we looked at each other and realized that we were all thinking the same thing.

No one has the right to extinguish our sun.