Dobryd

BY THE TIME I was five years old I had spent half my life hidden away in a barn loft. I had vague memories of the world outside and I listened to stories people around me told of that world, but it was hard for me to believe in its existence. Was there really anything beyond the wails of this barn? I knew that there were people out there, people other than my mother, my aunt, my cousin and another family who shared our hide-out, but it was hard for me to imagine them. At certain times, when a German patrol passed nearby and I was forced to remain still, I would try very hard to see beyond the walls of our shelter. Curiosity, doubt and fear coloured my images. Within their spectrum I recreated the world from which I was banished. Half invented and half remembered, it grew in my mind and satisfied the longings that sometimes came over me. Yet there was no urgency to my game; I was content to go on with my life indefinitely.