I cannot remember exactly when I understood what it meant to be born a Jew. That most of what happened to me was because I was a Jew. In the same way, I cannot remember exactly the day I understood that the small shapes on paper was a language to be understood.That it was letters so neatly lined up on the white paper and kept between two covers, just like the Jews in ghetto and Lager. To be able to read and write has always been a sort of mystery...