“Sometimes it is actually hate that ignites the fever of creativity in me. Because I am as extreme in love as I am in hate.”
Avraham Cytryn was 13 when he was interned in the ghetto. In those arduous days endured by the small family – the mother and her children Avraham and Lucy – Avraham began to write. His sister remembers that he was obsessed by his writing and engrossed in his notebooks every spare hour left to him after his work. He wrote prose and poetry, both of which read like a lament on the fate of the incarcerated Jews of Lodz, doomed to starve and perish. Avraham Cytryn considered suicide but did not take his own life because of his compassion for his mother. In his last photograph, which he surely did not know had been taken, he is seen behind his mother and sister just before they board the train for Auschwitz. Avraham took one notebook with him. The rest remained in the house in the ghetto and after the war, they were found thrown on the floor, torn and stained. These notebooks, a rare and exceptional document, present the reader with a direct and trenchant account of the terror and the despair.