First things first.
Weekend has been productive, sort of, I've done about 3 hours worth of homework/study today, and my week has been quite, uneventful. Of late, time has been passing me by through a whole range of things. For one, I'm paying a lot more attention in class, and secondly, I again find myself drowned into the sea of beauty that is Markus Zusak's The Book Thief. Aside from that, I can honestly say that school has taken up most of the time I have. Next well will be more eventful, I promise.
Actually, it will be even worse than this because exams are the week after, so I'm gonna sit my ass down and cram.
The excerpt from the text, put into context.
It is World War II in Nazi Germany, Liesel Meminger, a German child sent to live with her new foster parents: The Hubermanns, is about to be told that there is a jew being hidden within their household. Their German Household, in a German Street, in a German City. Not just any city however, a city that gives birth to the Nazi revolution, to the very birth of World War II, a city that for a short amount of time, housed the Fuhrer himself.
And that's bad.
'For starters,' he said, 'I will take each and every one of your books - and I will burn them.' It was callous. 'I'll throw them in the stove, or the fireplace.' He was certainly acting like a tyrant, but it was necessary. 'Understood?'
The shock made a hole in her, very neat, very precise.
Tears welled.
'Yes, Papa.'
'Next.' He had to remain hard, and needed to strain for it.
'They'll take you away from me. Do you want that?'
She was crying now, in earnest. 'Nein.'
'Good.' His grip on her hand tightened. 'They'll drag that man up there away, and maybe Mama and me, too - and we will never, ever come back.'
And that did it.
The girl began to sob so uncontrollably that Papa was dying to pull her into him and hug her tight. He didn't. Instead, he squatted down and watched her directly in the eyes. He unleashed his quietest words so far. 'Verstehst du mich? Do you understand me?'
The girl nodded. She cried, and now, defeated, shattered, her papa held her in the painted air and the kerosene light.
'I understand, Papa, I do.'
Her voice was muffled against his body, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, Liesel with squashed breath, and Papa rubbing her back.
More information in the tag.
With a new month, comes fresh bandwidth.
Time to celebrate that shit.
Featuring.
- Nostalgia
- MysteryGuitarMan.
- DJ Battle At School? Hell no, this shit's where it's at!
- Struggling to High 5? Learn how to here!
- Axis Of Awesome: 4 Chords.
And here they are:
1000000 points to whoever remembers this!
Next week celebrates the magnificence of the female body, ;D.
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