Franz Wertvollen. Natalia. From Colombia. With love. (№ 418869)

FRANÇOIS: What if that person hadn't made a mistake and called your name?
She shrugged.
MARIA: I would also take a step forward and get my bullet.
FRANÇOIS: Did you care?
MARIA: No. That's where I didn't care. When my husband was shot, he fell, I realized that I was waiting for all the same, I had so much rage. So much hate! But not to the regime. Not to Hitler. Generally. On myself rather. For the fact that I waited so much, waited, waited for life to begin, it never began, but now that's it. I didn't, you know, but I lived every cell what an améba I was. How I was not involved in life, how I got married in vain, I gave birth in vain, how ... yes at all... it's me - an ameb who is incapable of living! That's what I was thinking then. I was very angry. So evil that my knees were shaking. And he didn't name. I was waiting for familiar syllables, but he didn't name them. And it's like surfaced. Life burned oxygen rushed into my brain. I just saw all the space between the hastily knocked down barracks, these corpses, capos, which corpses are dragged into wheelbarrows. I'm not terrified or... I just, as if for the first time I saw, there might as well have been a meadow with cows, my shock would be exactly the same - that's all. Present. Exists. RIGHT AWAY. It's now and me now! We are in one moment. And it's my lungs, my heart, my numbness, not someone's, but mine. My fear is that now the mistake will be revealed and he will return. And these are my shoes that get dirty in blood.