My father went to see Schindler’s List by himself in a movie theater. When it came to the scene where the Jews’ belongings were all sorted in the town square, shoes here, jewelry there, glasses over there, into piles, my father walked out of the theater.
He told us, “I saw it the first time” (when he was a seven-year-old child).
Thanks, Yaelle. Poor little boy having to live with those memories all his life. I can understand him walking out of the theatre. I wouldn’t see the movie; I wouldn’t visit a death camp again. For tragedies in life, it’s better to not look back...