My father finished the war in a forced labor camp.

“I saved many people; they were weak, I was strong; I carried my share of stones, their share of stones; no one knew…They lived to see the end of the war,” he told me once, eyes glistening.

My father was a simple man. A couple years religious schooling, a couple years primary school, good hands was all he had. And he loved my mother with a simple man’s devotion.

She died. A medical mistake. His only question was: “God, I saved all these people. Now you punish me. Why?”

Yossi Faybish was born in Romania, where he spent his childhood absorbing a rich cultural heritage seeping through the imperfect seals of an oppressive system. He finished his higher studies in Israel, and then wandered away with his job and his family, finally ending in Belgium. He works in and is passionate about the high-tech industry, though writing is a serious runner-up; or maybe it’s the other way around. Yossi writes prose and poetry in a variety of styles and languages, mainly English and Romanian. “I want people to know not the what but the way I think,” he says.