On Saturday morning, a little over a week after the Paris attacks and the first day of the Brussels lockdown, we discuss survival strategies over our first cup of tea of the day.
“I’d play dead,” I tell my husband Joe. I would try to hide under a body, I think to myself, but don’t say it out loud because I’m ashamed. Then I think there’s no shame in wanting desperately to live, so I do say it.
In Ukraine, when he was 10 months old, my grandfather survived a pogrom when his mother buried him in a haystack. She buried herself …read more
Source: European Voice
