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Dear Diary,
The entire barrack of girls is now dependant upon me. I know, I should have never given that speech, but now I'm stuck with the position of mother duck. No, they don't follow me around; they just all come whining to me to cry on my shoulder. (So to speak.) We were moving large beams and sheets of metal today, supposedly to build some kind of killing machine. I had a large piece to move, and was just barely able to lift an end. With what little strength I could muster, I lifted it on end, supporting it against my chest. Looking back, it doesn't seem the right way to lift something of that size or weight. A sudden shock of pain shot up my spine and my fingers started to give. I was frozen, torn between standing there, in pain, and dropping it on my foot, as the only alternative. Suddenly, the burden was lifted from my hands by arms stronger than mine. A boy a year older than me, he had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. He really didn't look like the stereotypical Jew, and certainly looked muscular for a death camp detainee. After carrying it to the truck for me, he introduced himself to be Aaron. He had come from Warsaw on a train- before it became a ghetto, so he said- and had escaped by "playing dead" when they went

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to clear the bodies. Unfortunately, he had been caught by a Nazi sympathizer a week later and was thrown on another train to this camp. As I told him my story, I watched his eyes. I don't know why, but I can't look away from those deep, blue eyes. It's like I can peer right into his soul through them. He puts such an interesting expression into them, like empathy and interest and a sort of hidden peace with the look of endurance and patience that comes with the adjusting to these harsh conditions. (I don't know how he accustomed himself to such torture. I know I'll never get used to it.) I fell into those eyes, lost myself, drowned gladly in the sparkling azure pools as I listened to his voice when he spoke softly, when he laughed. Diary, I think I'm in love. I've never felt any sensation like it. Much more than the temporary infatuation of a blushing schoolgirl. This is deep. I'm attached now. oh, now what am I to do? I know I have far worse worries to bother my mind with. Guilt doesn't have to be added to the stack! I've forgotten all about Johann! Well, he isn't Jewish, so I doubt he's suffering at all. he wouldn't understand. he's not here. was I even in love with Johann to begin with? I think it was what they call, "in love with love." Aaron makes me feel different somehow.