January 29, 1955
…But I didn’t live that, and my mother doesn’t know anymore or won’t tell me because she probably continues to believe that those things should not be spoken about, especially with your own children. Perhaps I’m being unfair, maybe she does want to talk about it. But even if that were true, she can no longer see things now like she did before, sort out everything like it happened. She will be eighty in three days. That’s why I want to begin writing now, before it’s too late, because in a few years when I read these pages I will think differently and perhaps I might have forgotten things. Surely, even now, many things have faded from my memory. Still, some events reappear exactly like they were.