![]() ![]() Our lives were not without anxiety, since our relatives in Germany were suffering under Hitler’s anti-Jewish laws. His Company is connected with Colen and Co, which is located at the same building. Because we’re Jewish, my father emigrated to Holland in 1933, when he became the Managing Director of the Dutch Opekta Company. My sister Margot was born in Frankfurt am Main in Germany in 1926. My father, the most adorable father I’ve ever seen, didn’t marry my mother until he was thirty-six and she was twenty-five. Since no one would understand a word of my stories to Kitty if I were to plunge right in, I’d better provide a brief sketch of my life, much as I dislike doing so. To enhance the image of this long-awaited friend in my imagination, I don’t want to jot down the facts in this diary the way most people would do, but I want the diary to be my friend, and I’m going to call this friend Kitty. In any case, that’s just how things are, and unfortunately they’re not liable to change. Maybe it’s my fault that we don’t confide in each other. We don’t seem to be able to get any closer, and that’s the problem. I can’t bring myself to talk about anything but ordinary everyday things. All I think about when I’m with friends is having a good time. No, on the surface I seem to have everything, except my one true friend. I have a family, loving aunts and a good home. I have a throng of admirers who can’t keep their adoring eyes off me and who sometimes have to resort to using a broken pocket mirror to try and catch a glimpse of me in the classroom. I have loving parents and a sixteen-year-old sister, and there are about thirty people I can call friends. Let me put it more clearly, since no one will believe that a thirteen-year-old girl is completely alone in the world. Now I’m back to the point that prompted me to keep a diary in the first place: I don’t have a friend. Yes, paper doeshave more patience, and since I’m not planning to let anyone else read this stiff-backed notebook grandly referred to as a ‘diary’, unless I should ever find a real friend, it probably won’t make a bit of difference. ‘Paper has more patience than people.’ I thought of this saying on one of those days when I was feeling a little depressed and was sitting at home with my chin in my hands, bored and listless, wondering whether to stay in or go out. I feel like writing, and I have an even greater need to get all kinds of things off my chest. Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. During break I handed out biscuits to my teachers and my class, and then it was time to get back to work. Then Hanneli came to pick me up, and we went to school. With them I bought Myths of Ancient Greece and Rome – a terrific book! I got a book – Camera Obscura, a table game, lots of sweets, a puzzle, a brooch, Dutch Sagas and Legends by Joseph Khozn and some money. From Daddy and Mummy I got heaps of presents and my friends also showered gifts upon me. These were the first flowers, later I received more of them. Then a bouquet of roses, some peonies and a potted plant. A little after seven I went to Daddy and Mummy and then to the living-room to open my presents, and you were the first thing I saw, maybe one of my nicest presents. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I went to the dining-room, where Moortje (the cat) welcomed me by rubbing against my legs. But I’m not allowed to get up at that hour, so I had to control my curiosity until quarter to seven. On Friday, 12 June, I was awake at six o’clock, which isn’t surprising, since it was my birthday. I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in to anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support. ![]()
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