Few of them made it to thirty. Old age was the privilege of rocks and trees. Childhood ended as fast as wolf cubs grow. One had to hurry, to get on with life before the sun went down, before the first snow.

He managed to come into the world at what was still a fitting time. All that was to pass passed in this house. Not in housing projects, not in furnished but em…

And who's this little fellow in his itty-bitty robe? That's tiny baby Adolf, the Hitlers' little boy!

There's no life that couldn't be immortal if only for a moment. Death always arrives by that very moment too late. In vain it tugs at the knob of the invisible…