The Russians arrived. All I remembered about Russians was that they eat children and rape virgins, a major improvement over the present hell. Would they even know I was a child, a girl, naked as I was?

One soldier approached me.

“Yevreyskaya devushka?” Jewish girl?

I wasn’t even afraid anymore.

“Da.” Yes.

He opened his knapsack and took out a loaf of bread. Then he covered me with his army blanket.

“Sergei, Ivan, Petya…” he called over his comrades and they laid around us a mound of bread and blankets.

All I remember about Russians now is bread, and blankets.

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.