Wednesday 19 March 2014

A note by Julius Fucik ( TRANSLATED)

Sitting in the house of ex-Petschek bank with hands on the knee and looking towards the fading wall it is never possible to be lost in one's self. But who is having the stamina to tame the mind and sit like this for hours?
I don't know who named this room " Picture House". Germans called it "Informal Gaol" but I must appreciate the name - Picture House. Those who are brought for investigation are sitting motionless on the chairs in this big room. It seems as if the fading wall in front of them is the curtain ; the curtain that portrays their fate.Waiting for death they are throwing consecutive scenes on the curtain - so many scenes must not be in any film, so far.Someone's whole life's image or images of some short memories, mother, wife, children, ransacked home or a traitor. The image of the man whom I gave Anti-Nazi manifesto, the blood , the hand that clutched mine in eternal faith - that image. Everyday we were dying in front of each other.But everyone didn't achieve a second birth.
I have observed hundreds of such life's movies.Thousand incidences. Now I shall sit to write.
If before conclusion those executioners stop my breath, then crores of people will write its "sweet conclusion".
                                                                                                                     J.F

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