Night
Night was falling quickly.
Night fell and some twenty people gathered in our backyard.
That night we all went to bed early.
It was to be our last night spent in our house.
Nobody was praying for night to pass quickly.
The night before we had sat down to eat our traditional Friday night meal.
I spent last night going over memories and ideas, I was unable to fall asleep.
The night seemed endless.
Once more,
The last night. The last night at home.
The last night in the ghetto. The last night in the cattle car, and, now, the last night in Buna.
The night had completely passed and yet It seemed as though an even darker night was waiting for us on the other side.
(Wiesel, Elie, and Marion Wiesel. Night. Hill and Wang, a Division of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017.)
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