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“My family has spent my entire life romanticizing the way my grandfather survived World War 2. But it is my grandmother who was left behind.”

I don’t post about / write about my love for Slam Poetry enough. I took a Holocaust + Memory class my last semester of college, the semester I went to Germany and encountered so many nazi relics and fragments of the past. We spent a lot of time in that class thinking about which stories we choose to tell. The way we tell them. Who is forgotten.

I’ve liked Carrie Rudzinski for a while, but never as much as now. I cried for a good long while after watching this. As I seem to do so often, these days.

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