Anne Frank - Diary of Anne Frank. Four dirty jokes of Anne Frank. Hidden pages of the main diary of the Holocaust kept records of sex Anne Frank's diary about what

I hope that I can entrust everything to you, as I have not trusted anyone until now, I hope that you will be a huge support for me.

On Friday, I woke up at six o'clock. And quite understandably, it was my birthday. But I, of course, could not get up so early, I had to restrain my curiosity until a quarter to seven. But I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to the dining room, where Mavrik, our kitten, met me, and began to caress me.

At seven I ran to my father and mother, then we all went to the living room and there we began to untie and examine the gifts. You, my diary, I saw right away, it was the best gift. They also gave me a bouquet of roses, a cactus and cut peonies. These were the first flowers, then they brought many more.

Dad and mom bought me a bunch of gifts, and my friends just gave me. I got the Camera Obscura book, a board game, a lot of sweets, a puzzle, a brooch, Dutch Tales and Legends by Josef Kozn, and another wonderful book - Daisy Goes to the Mountains, and money. I bought Myths of Ancient Greece and Rome with them - wonderful!

Then Liz came to pick me up and we went to school. I treated the teachers and my whole class with sweets, then the lessons began.

That's all for now! How glad I am that I have you!

I didn’t write for several days, I wanted to seriously think about why a diary is needed at all? I have a strange feeling - I'll keep a diary! And not only because I have never been engaged in “writing”. It seems to me that later it will not be interesting for me, and in general for everyone, to read the outpourings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. But that's not the point. I just want to write, and most importantly, I want to express everything that is in my heart.

"Paper will endure everything." So I often thought in sad days when I sat with my head in my hands and did not know where to go. Now I wanted to sit at home, then go somewhere, and I didn’t move from my place and kept thinking. Yes, paper will endure everything! I'm not going to show this thick-bound notebook with the pompous title "Diary" to anyone, and if I show it to a real friend or a real girlfriend, others are not interested. So I said the main reason why I want to keep a diary: because I don’t have a real girlfriend!

You have to explain, otherwise no one will understand why a thirteen-year-old girl feels so alone. Of course, this is not entirely true. I have wonderful, kind parents, a sixteen-year-old sister, and probably at least thirty acquaintances or so-called friends. I have a lot of admirers, they never take their eyes off me, and during the lessons they even catch my smile in the mirror.

I have many relatives, wonderful uncles and aunts, we are comfortable at home, in fact, I have everything - except for a girlfriend! With all my acquaintances, you can only play pranks and fool around, chatting about all sorts of trifles. I have no one to talk to frankly, and I'm all buttoned up. Maybe I myself need to be more trusting, but there's nothing to be done, it's a pity that it turns out that way.

That's why I need a diary. But in order for me to have a real girlfriend before my eyes, which I have been dreaming of for so long, I will not write down bare facts in my diary, as everyone does, I want this notebook to become my friend itself - and this girlfriend will be called Kitty!

No one will understand anything if suddenly, for no reason, start a correspondence with Kitty, so I'll tell you my biography first, although I'm not very interested in it.

When my parents got married, my father was 36 and my mother 25. My sister Margo was born in 1926 in Frankfurt am Main, and on June 12, 1929, I was born. We are Jews, and therefore we had to emigrate to Holland in 1933, where my father became one of the directors of the Travis joint-stock company. This organization is associated with Colin & Co., which is located in the same building.

We had many worries in our lives - like everyone else: our relatives remained in Germany, and the Nazis persecuted them. After the pogroms of 1938, both of my mother's brothers fled to America, and my grandmother came to us. She was then seventy-three years old. After the fortieth year, life began to be difficult. First the war, then the surrender, then the German occupation. And then our suffering began. New laws were introduced, one stricter than the other, especially for the Jews. Jews had to wear a yellow star, turn in their bicycles, Jews were forbidden to ride the tram, not to mention cars. Purchases could only be made from three to five, and moreover, in special Jewish shops. After eight in the evening it was impossible to go outside and even sit in the garden or on the balcony. It was impossible to go to the cinema, to the theater - no entertainment! It was forbidden to swim, play hockey or tennis - in a word, sports were also banned. Jews were not allowed to visit Christians, Jewish children were transferred to Jewish schools. There were more and more restrictions.

Our whole life is spent in fear. Yoppies always say, "I'm afraid to take on something - what if it's forbidden?"

My grandmother passed away in January of this year. No one knows how much I loved her and how much I miss her.

Since 1934, I was sent to a kindergarten at the Montessorn school, and then I stayed at this school. In the last year, my class teacher was our boss, Mrs. K. At the end of the year, we parted with her touchingly and both wept bitterly. Since 1941, Margo and I entered the Jewish gymnasium: she was in the fourth grade, and I was in the first grade.

So far, the four of us are doing well. So I came to today and the date.

Dear Kitty!

Years seem to have passed between Sunday morning and today. So many things happened, as if the earth turned over! But, Kitty, as you can see, I'm still alive, and that, according to Papa, is the most important thing.

Yes, I live, but don't ask how and where. You probably don't understand me at all. I'll have to tell you everything that happened on Sunday first.

At three o'clock—Harry had just left and wanted to be back soon—the bell rang. I did not hear anything, I lay comfortably in a rocking chair on the veranda and read. Suddenly a frightened Margo appeared at the door. “Anna, they sent a summons to my father from the Gestapo,” she whispered. “Mom has already run to van Daan.” (Van Daan is a good friend of his father and his colleague.)

I was terribly scared. The agenda… everyone knows what it means: a concentration camp… Prison cells flashed before me – can we really let them take my father away! "You can't let him in!" – resolutely said Margot. We sat with her in the living room and waited for my mother. Mom went to the Van Daans, we need to decide whether we should go to the shelter tomorrow. The Van Daans will also go with us - there will be seven of us. We sat in silence, we could not talk about anything. The thought of a father who does not suspect anything, went to visit his wards in a Jewish almshouse, expectation, heat, fear - we were completely dumbfounded.

Suddenly a call. "It's Harry!" - I said. "Do not open!" - Margot kept me, but the fear was in vain: we heard the voices of mother and Mr. Daan, they were talking to Harry. Then he left, and they entered the house and locked the doors behind them. At every call, Margot or I would sneak downstairs and see if it was the father. We decided not to let anyone else in.

We were sent out of the room. Van Daan wanted to talk to his mother alone. When we were sitting in our room, Margo told me that the summons had not come to dad, but to her. I was even more frightened and began to cry bitterly. Margo is only sixteen years old. Do they really want to send such girls without their parents? But, fortunately, she will not leave us. That's what my mother said, and probably my father also prepared me for this when he talked about the asylum.

What kind of shelter? Where will we hide? In a city, in a village, in some house, in a hut - when, how, where? It was impossible to ask these questions, but they kept spinning in my head all the time.

Margot and I began to pack the essentials in our school bags. First of all, I took this notebook, then anything: curlers, handkerchiefs, textbooks, a comb, old letters. I thought about how we would hide, and shoved all sorts of nonsense into the bag. But I do not feel sorry: memories are more expensive than dresses.

The story of Anne Frank received publicity after the publication of a documentary, and later an artistic version of the girl's diary. Anna became the most famous symbol of the victims of the Nazi regime. After the wedding, the girl's parents Otto (a German businessman of Jewish origin) and Edith (who also had Jewish roots) settled in the city of Frankfurt, Germany. Soon they had children: Margot - in 1926 and Anna - in 1929.

Portrait of Anne Frank

These first years the family enjoyed happiness, but the economic crisis overshadowed the life of the Franks. In 1933 he headed the German government. Otto and Edith became concerned about the political situation. The persecution of the Jews and the economic crisis caused serious problems, the couple were looking for a way to escape the country.

Childhood and youth

Anne Frank and her older sister Margo were born in Frankfurt am Main, in West Germany, where the girls spent a happy childhood. The daughters were close to their parents and were friends with other children in the neighborhood. In the early 1930s, the impact of the economic crisis was felt more strongly, and the political situation worsened as the influence of anti-Semitic sentiments of the Nazis who came to power increased.

Edith Frank waited with trepidation for the birth of Margot, Anna's older sister. The first child of the Franks (Edith, Bettina) died in infancy. Three years after the birth of Margot, on June 12, 1929, the younger sister, Annelis Marie, known to the world as Anna or Ann, was born. Edith writes in a children's book of memoirs about Ann that Margot saw her sister for the first time on June 14 and was genuinely worried.

The family lived on the Marbachweg, in Frankfurt. Anna and Margot had fun here. There were many children in the neighborhood that Margot played with. Anna played in the sandbox in the garden. She was too young to go outside to play with her sister and other children. Margot was allowed out of the garden by her parents, and she played outside with her friends. As soon as Anna learned to walk, she joined her sister. Ann's childhood friend Hilda Staab recalled that her mother and Edith loved to watch the children play through the windows or from the balcony, and they loved that the girls had so much fun together.

The children in the neighborhood belonged to different walks of life. Some of them are Catholics, others are Protestants or Jews. Anna and her friends were curious about each other's festivities and traditions. So Margo and Anna were invited to Hilde's Holy Communion party, and when the Franks celebrated Hanukkah, they invited the local children to join them. The Franks were known as liberal Jews - not strict believers, but following Jewish traditions. Members of the Otto family considered themselves Germans. Reading and studying were important to Otto and his two daughters. In addition, he was fond of photography and photographed Anna and Margot playing with the neighbor's children. These photos are still kept in the archives.

Ann and Margot loved their father very much. Together with his mother, the girls called him Pim. When Otto put his daughters to bed, he told the girls bedtime stories that he made up himself.

In 1931 Otto, Edith, Margot and Ann moved from Marburgweg to the Ganghoferstrasse. They had to change their place of residence, because the family did not have enough money. Frank's office, where Otto worked, suffered losses, and Otto's income was rapidly declining. In addition, the owner of the house on the Marburgweg turned out to be a member of the anti-Semitic National Socialist German Workers' Party. Neighbor Hilda suspected that the Franks had moved because of a difficult relationship with the landlord. However, the son of the owner of the house said later that the father was forced to join the party because otherwise he would lose his job, and not because of antipathy towards the Jews.

Ann and Margot kept in touch with the children from the old quarter, even after the family moved to Marbachweg on Gangoferstrasse in 1931. Former neighbor Gertrud Naumann missed the Franks greatly. Frank's daughters easily made friends with the children in the new area as well.

The new house of the Franks was located near the school of Ludwig Richter, and on March 6, 1932, Margot went to study there. A young teacher worked at the school, and classes were sometimes held outside. Students were encouraged to study on their own and build friendships with teachers.

The Frank family lived on Gangoferstrasse for two years, and then, for financial reasons, was forced to move in with their grandmother, Otto's mother. Margo's school was far from her new home, so she moved to another one. Otto and Edith hoped that Margot would not have problems because of her Jewish origin, but, unfortunately, they did.

asylum

In May 1940, Nazi Germany attacked the Netherlands, and at the same time the persecution of Jews began in Europe. From 1938 to 1941, Otto sought permission to emigrate to the United States. The family did not have time to get visas - Germany officially declared war on the United States.

In 1942, the Frank family, through their eldest daughter, was handed a summons to the Gestapo demanding to go to a concentration camp. Then Otto decided to move the family to a shelter provided to him by the company where Frank worked. The family then lived in Amsterdam. The company's office at Prinsengracht 263 was located in a location where many other companies are located.

The refuge at 263 Prinsengracht was relatively spacious. There was plenty of room for two families. At that time, shelters were cramped rooms in damp basements or dusty attics. People hiding in the countryside sometimes went outside, but only if there was no danger of detection.

The entrance to the secret hideout was behind a movable bookcase. On August 21, 1942, Anna described in her diary that at that time seven people were hiding in the shelter. Dentist Fritz Pfeffer joins them later on November 16, 1942.

The Franks lived in the shelter for two years. In the shelter, they kept quiet, were scared and spent time together as best they could. The prisoners were assisted by office workers Johannes Kleiman, Viktor Kugler, Miep and Jan Gies, and warehouse manager Johannes Voskijl. These people brought food, clothes, books and helped the prisoners to contact the outside world.

Arrest and deportation

After two years in hiding, the Frank family was discovered and deported to a concentration camp. Anna's father, Otto Frank, was the only survivor.

On August 4, 1944, people found in the shelter were arrested along with assistants. The family was transferred from the security headquarters to the Westerbork camp and then deported to Auschwitz. Two assistants went to the Amersfoort camp. Johannes Kleiman was released shortly after his arrest, and six months later Victor Kugler managed to escape. Immediately after the arrests, Miep Gies and Bep Voskyl rescued Anna's diary, which remained in a secret hideout. Despite the research, it was not possible to find out how the shelter was discovered.

Death of Anne Frank

Otto Frank is the only one of eight people who survived that war. During the process of being deported from the Netherlands, he learned that Edith had died. But Otto could not get news about his daughters and hoped to find the girls. In early July, he returned to Amsterdam and went to Miep and Jan Gies, where he spent seven years.

Memorial to Anne Frank and her sister Margo on the territory of the former concentration camp Bergen-Belsen

Otto Frank tried to find his daughters, but in July he received the news of death: the girls died as a result of illness and deprivation in Bergen-Belsen. Miep Gies then gave Anna's diary to Otto. Otto read the diary.

Diary of Anne Frank

After her death, Anna became world famous thanks to the diary she wrote while hiding in a shelter. Shortly before the family went into hiding, Anna received a diary as a birthday present. She started recording right away, and during her life in the shelter, the girl wrote about all the events. In addition, Anna wrote short stories and collected quotes from other writers in her Book of Fine Suggestions.

When the Dutch Minister of Education asked people on British radio to keep war diaries, Anne decided to change the diary and write a novel called Secret Hideout. The girl began to rewrite the diary, but at that time the family was discovered and arrested.

Anna wrote in her diary that she wanted to be a writer or journalist in the future and hoped to publish the diary as a novel. Friends convinced Otto Frank that the diary was of high artistic value, and on June 25, 1947, The Secret Annexe released 3,000 copies. Many more editions and translations followed, a play and a film.

People all over the world have learned the story of Anne Frank. For 10 years, Otto Frank answered thousands of letters from people who read his daughter's diary. In 1960, the Anne Frank House became a museum.

Memory

Otto Frank in an interview has repeatedly said that he is proud of his daughter. Anne Frank's diary is essentially a story of faith, hope and love in the face of hate. For two years, Anne Frank hid from the Nazis with her family in a secret hideout in Amsterdam and wrote daily diary entries to pass the time. Some recordings poignantly convey the depth of despair into which the girl sometimes fell.

“I have come to the point where it doesn’t matter to me whether I live or die,” Anna wrote on February 3, 1944. "The world will go on without me and there is nothing I can do to change events."

"When I write, I can get rid of all worries," she wrote on April 5, 1944.

Anne Frank's diary, years after the tragic death of the girl, was included in the UNESCO World Heritage List, and a museum was created in the house where the family was hiding. In memory of a courageous girl, a street in one of the cities of Israel and even an asteroid are named after her.

In the period from the middle of the twentieth century to the present, five films have been made that tell about the biography of Anne Frank and her diary. And based on the girl’s notes, a book was published in 2010 called “Shelter. Diary in letters.

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I hope that I can entrust everything to you, as I have not trusted anyone until now, I hope that you will be a huge support for me.

On Friday, I woke up at six o'clock. And quite understandably, it was my birthday. But I, of course, could not get up so early, I had to restrain my curiosity until a quarter to seven. But I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to the dining room, where Mavrik, our kitten, met me, and began to caress me.

At seven I ran to my father and mother, then we all went to the living room and there we began to untie and examine the gifts. You, my diary, I saw right away, it was the best gift. They also gave me a bouquet of roses, a cactus and cut peonies. These were the first flowers, then they brought many more.

Dad and mom bought me a bunch of gifts, and my friends just gave me. I got the Camera Obscura book, a board game, a lot of sweets, a puzzle, a brooch, Dutch Tales and Legends by Josef Kozn, and another wonderful book - Daisy Goes to the Mountains, and money. I bought Myths of Ancient Greece and Rome with them - wonderful!

Then Liz came to pick me up and we went to school. I treated the teachers and my whole class with sweets, then the lessons began.

That's all for now! How glad I am that I have you!

I didn’t write for several days, I wanted to seriously think about why a diary is needed at all? I have a strange feeling - I'll keep a diary! And not only because I have never been engaged in “writing”. It seems to me that later it will not be interesting for me, and in general for everyone, to read the outpourings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. But that's not the point. I just want to write, and most importantly, I want to express everything that is in my heart.

"Paper will endure everything." So I often thought in sad days when I sat with my head in my hands and did not know where to go. Now I wanted to sit at home, then go somewhere, and I didn’t move from my place and kept thinking. Yes, paper will endure everything! I'm not going to show this thick-bound notebook with the pompous title "Diary" to anyone, and if I show it to a real friend or a real girlfriend, others are not interested. So I said the main reason why I want to keep a diary: because I don’t have a real girlfriend!

You have to explain, otherwise no one will understand why a thirteen-year-old girl feels so alone. Of course, this is not entirely true. I have wonderful, kind parents, a sixteen-year-old sister, and probably at least thirty acquaintances or so-called friends. I have a lot of admirers, they never take their eyes off me, and during the lessons they even catch my smile in the mirror.

I have many relatives, wonderful uncles and aunts, we are comfortable at home, in fact, I have everything - except for a girlfriend! With all my acquaintances, you can only play pranks and fool around, chatting about all sorts of trifles. I have no one to talk to frankly, and I'm all buttoned up. Maybe I myself need to be more trusting, but there's nothing to be done, it's a pity that it turns out that way.

That's why I need a diary. But in order for me to have a real girlfriend before my eyes, which I have been dreaming of for so long, I will not write down bare facts in my diary, as everyone does, I want this notebook to become my friend itself - and this girlfriend will be called Kitty!

No one will understand anything if suddenly, for no reason, start a correspondence with Kitty, so I'll tell you my biography first, although I'm not very interested in it.

When my parents got married, my father was 36 and my mother 25. My sister Margo was born in 1926 in Frankfurt am Main, and on June 12, 1929, I was born. We are Jews, and therefore we had to emigrate to Holland in 1933, where my father became one of the directors of the Travis joint-stock company. This organization is associated with Colin & Co., which is located in the same building.

We had many worries in our lives - like everyone else: our relatives remained in Germany, and the Nazis persecuted them. After the pogroms of 1938, both of my mother's brothers fled to America, and my grandmother came to us. She was then seventy-three years old. After the fortieth year, life began to be difficult. First the war, then the surrender, then the German occupation. And then our suffering began. New laws were introduced, one stricter than the other, especially for the Jews. Jews had to wear a yellow star, turn in their bicycles, Jews were forbidden to ride the tram, not to mention cars. Purchases could only be made from three to five, and moreover, in special Jewish shops. After eight in the evening it was impossible to go outside and even sit in the garden or on the balcony. It was impossible to go to the cinema, to the theater - no entertainment! It was forbidden to swim, play hockey or tennis - in a word, sports were also banned. Jews were not allowed to visit Christians, Jewish children were transferred to Jewish schools. There were more and more restrictions.

Our whole life is spent in fear. Yoppies always say, "I'm afraid to take on something - what if it's forbidden?"

My grandmother passed away in January of this year. No one knows how much I loved her and how much I miss her.

Since 1934, I was sent to a kindergarten at the Montessorn school, and then I stayed at this school. In the last year, my class teacher was our boss, Mrs. K. At the end of the year, we parted with her touchingly and both wept bitterly. Since 1941, Margo and I entered the Jewish gymnasium: she was in the fourth grade, and I was in the first grade.

So far, the four of us are doing well. So I came to today and the date.

Dear Kitty!

Years seem to have passed between Sunday morning and today. So many things happened, as if the earth turned over! But, Kitty, as you can see, I'm still alive, and that, according to Papa, is the most important thing.

Yes, I live, but don't ask how and where. You probably don't understand me at all. I'll have to tell you everything that happened on Sunday first.

At three o'clock—Harry had just left and wanted to be back soon—the bell rang. I did not hear anything, I lay comfortably in a rocking chair on the veranda and read. Suddenly a frightened Margo appeared at the door. “Anna, they sent a summons to my father from the Gestapo,” she whispered. “Mom has already run to van Daan.” (Van Daan is a good friend of his father and his colleague.)

I was terribly scared. A summons... everyone knows what it means: a concentration camp... Prison cells flashed before me - can we really let them take my father away! "You can't let him in!" – resolutely said Margot. We sat with her in the living room and waited for my mother. Mom went to the Van Daans, we need to decide whether we should go to the shelter tomorrow. The Van Daans will also go with us - there will be seven of us. We sat in silence, we could not talk about anything. The thought of a father who does not suspect anything, went to visit his wards in a Jewish almshouse, expectation, heat, fear - we were completely dumbfounded.

Suddenly a call. "It's Harry!" - I said. "Do not open!" - Margot kept me, but the fear was in vain: we heard the voices of mother and Mr. Daan, they were talking to Harry. Then he left, and they entered the house and locked the doors behind them. At every call, Margot or I would sneak downstairs and see if it was the father. We decided not to let anyone else in.

We were sent out of the room. Van Daan wanted to talk to his mother alone. When we were sitting in our room, Margo told me that the summons had not come to dad, but to her. I was even more frightened and began to cry bitterly. Margo is only sixteen years old. Do they really want to send such girls without their parents? But, fortunately, she will not leave us. That's what my mother said, and probably my father also prepared me for this when he talked about the asylum.

What kind of shelter? Where will we hide? In a city, in a village, in some house, in a hut - when, how, where? It was impossible to ask these questions, but they kept spinning in my head all the time.

Margot and I began to pack the essentials in our school bags. First of all, I took this notebook, then anything: curlers, handkerchiefs, textbooks, a comb, old letters. I thought about how we would hide, and shoved all sorts of nonsense into the bag. But I do not feel sorry: memories are more expensive than dresses.

At five o'clock the father finally returned. He called Mr. Koophuis and asked him to come in the evening. Herr van Daan went after Miep. Miep has been working in my father's office since 1933, she has become our true friend and her new husband Henk too. She came, put her shoes, dresses, coat, some linen and stockings in a suitcase and promised to come back in the evening. Finally, we were quiet. Nobody could eat. It was still hot and generally somehow strange and unusual.

A certain Mr. Goudsmit rents our upper room, he is divorced from his wife, he is thirty. Apparently, on this Sunday he had nothing to do, he stayed with us until ten, and there was no way to survive him.

At eleven Miep and Henk van Santen arrived. Stockings, shoes, books and underwear began to disappear again in Miep's suitcase and in the deep pockets of her husband. At half past eleven they left, heavily laden. I was tired to death, and although I knew that I was sleeping the last night in my bed, I immediately fell asleep. At half past six in the morning my mother woke me up. Luckily it wasn't as hot as Sunday. Warm rain fell all day. All four of us put on so much warm clothes, as if we were going to spend the night in the refrigerator. But we had to take as many clothes as possible with us. In our position, no one would dare to walk down the street with a heavy suitcase. I was wearing two shirts, two pairs of stockings, three pairs of leotards and a dress, and on top - a skirt, a jacket, a summer coat, then my best shoes, boots, a scarf, a hat and all sorts of dresses and scarves. I almost suffocated at home, but everyone was not up to it.

Margo stuffed her bag with textbooks, got on her bike and followed Miep into a place unknown to me. I did not yet know in what mysterious place we would hide ... At seven thirty minutes we slammed the doors behind us. The only creature I said goodbye to was Mavrik, my favorite kitten, he was supposed to be adopted by the neighbors. About this we left a note to Mr. Goudsmit. There was a pound of meat for the cat on the kitchen table, the table was not cleared in the dining room, the bed was not made. Everything made the impression that we ran headlong. But we didn't care what people would say. We just wanted to get away and get to the place safely. I'll write more tomorrow!

Dear Kitty!

Our shelter has become a real hiding place. Mr. Kraler had a brilliant idea - to close tightly the entrance to us here, on the back half of the house, because now there are a lot of searches - they are looking for bicycles. This plan was carried out by Mr. Vossen. He made a movable bookshelf that opens to one side like a door. Of course, he had to be “initiated”, and now he is ready to help us in everything. Now, when you go down, you must first bend down, and then jump, since the step has been removed. Three days later, we all got terrible bumps on our foreheads because we forgot to bend down and bang our heads against the low door. Now there is a nailed roller, stuffed with shavings. I don't know if it will help!

I read little. So far, I have forgotten a lot of what we were taught at school. Life here is monotonous. Van Daan and I often quarrel. Of course, Margo seems much nicer to him. Mom treats me like a little girl, and I can't stand it. Peter didn't get any nicer either. He is boring, lying on the bed all day, sometimes making something, and then sleeping again. Such a douche!

Dear Kitty!

Today I have very sad and difficult news. Many Jews - our friends and acquaintances - were arrested. The Gestapo treats them horribly. They are loaded into wagons and sent to the Jewish concentration camp Westerbork. This is a terrible place. There are not enough washrooms or latrines for thousands of people. They say that in the barracks everyone sleeps side by side: men, women, children. It's impossible to run away. Prisoners from the camp are immediately recognized by their shaved heads, and many by their typically Jewish appearance.

If it's so scary here in Holland, then what horror awaits them where they are sent! English radio reports that they are waiting for the gas chambers, and perhaps this is still the fastest way to destroy them. Miep tells terrible stories, she herself is in terrible agitation. She was waiting for the Gestapo car, which gathers everyone in a row. The old woman was trembling with fear. Anti-aircraft guns thundered, searchlights fumbled in the darkness, the echo from the roar of British aircraft rolled among the houses. But Mip did not dare to take the old woman to her. The Germans punish this very severely.

Ellie also became quiet and sad. Her friend was sent to Germany for forced labor. She is afraid that he will not be killed during the bombing. English pilots are dropping tons of bombs. I think that stupid jokes like: "Well, the whole ton will not fall on him!" or "One bomb is enough too!" - very tactless and stupid. And Dirk wasn't the only one in trouble, far from it. Every day young people are taken away for forced labor. Some manage to escape along the way or escape in advance, but there are very few of them.

My sad story is not over yet. Do you know what hostages are? Here the Germans came up with the most sophisticated torture. This is the scariest thing. Innocent people are seized indiscriminately and kept in prison. If “sabotage” is discovered somewhere and the culprit is not found, then there is a reason to shoot several hostages. And then there are warnings in the papers. What kind of people are these Germans! And I, too, once belonged to them. But Hitler long ago declared us deprived of citizenship. Yes, there is no greater enmity between such Germans and Jews anywhere in the world!

Dear Kitty!

Today we are again terribly upset, we cannot sit quietly and work. Something terrible is happening. Day and night, unfortunate people are taken away and not allowed to take anything with them - only a backpack and some money. But this is also taken away from them!

Families are separated, fathers and mothers are separated from their children. It happens that the children come home from school, but the parents are not there, or the wife goes shopping and returns to the sealed door - it turns out that the whole family was taken away!

And anxiety is growing among Christians: the youth, their sons, are being sent to Germany. Everywhere grief!

Every night hundreds of planes fly through Holland to bomb German cities, every hour hundreds of people die in Russia and Africa. The whole globe has gone mad, death and destruction everywhere.

Of course, the Allies are now in a better position than the Germans, but there is still no end in sight.

We live well, better than millions of other people. We sit quietly, we are safe, we are able to make plans for the post-war period, we can even rejoice in new dresses and books, but we would have to think about how to save every cent and not waste it in vain, because we will have to help others and save everyone, who can be saved.

Many children run around in only thin dresses, in wooden shoes on their bare feet, without coats, without gloves, without hats. Their stomachs are empty, they chew turnips, run out of cold rooms into wet streets, into the rain, wind, then come to a damp, unheated school. Yes, in Holland it has come to the point that children on the street beg for a piece of bread from passers-by! I could talk for hours about how much grief the war brought, but it makes me even sadder. We have no choice but to calmly and steadfastly wait until the end of misfortune comes. And everyone is waiting - Jews, Christians, all peoples, the whole world ... And many are waiting for death!

Dear Kitty!

I'm beside myself with rage, but I must restrain myself! I want to stomp my feet, yell, shake my mother by the shoulders - I don’t know what I would have done to her for these evil words, mocking looks, the accusations she showers me with like arrows from a tightly drawn bow. I want to shout to my mother, Margot, Dussel, even my father: leave me, let me breathe in peace! Is it possible to fall asleep every night in tears, on a wet pillow, with swollen eyes and a heavy head? Don't touch me, I want to get away from everyone, get away from life - that would be the best! But nothing comes out. They don't know how desperate I am. They themselves do not understand what wounds they inflict on me.

And their sympathy, their irony, I can't stand at all! I want to howl at the top of my voice!

As soon as I open my mouth - it already seems to them that I have said too much, it’s worth shutting up - it’s funny to them, every answer I have is insolence, every smart thought is a catch, if I’m tired, then I’m a lazy person, if I ate an extra piece, I’m selfish, I I'm a fool, I'm a coward, I'm cunning - in a word, you can't count everything. All day long I can only hear what an unbearable creature I am, and although I pretend that I am funny and do not care at all, in fact I am far from indifferent to this.

I would ask the Lord God to make me so as not to annoy anyone. But nothing will come of it. Apparently, I was born that way, although I feel that I am not so bad at all. They have no idea how much I try to do everything well. I laugh with them so as not to show how deeply I suffer. How many times have I told my mother when she unfairly attacked me: “I don’t care, say what you want, just leave me alone, I’m incorrigible anyway!”

Then they tell me that I am impudent, and they don’t talk to me for two days, and then suddenly everything is forgotten and goodbye. But I can’t do this - one day to be terribly affectionate and sweet with a person, and the next day to hate him! It is better to choose the “golden mean”, although I don’t see anything “golden” in it! It is better to keep your thoughts to yourself and treat everyone as dismissively as they treat me!

If only it could!

Dear Kitty!

On Sunday, Amsterdam Nord was heavily bombed. The damage must have been terrible. Entire streets have been reduced to piles of rubble, and it will take many days to accommodate all those whose houses have been bombed. Already registered 200 killed and many wounded. Hospitals are overcrowded. Children roam the streets, looking for fathers and mothers under the rubble. Even now it throws me into the cold, as soon as I remember the deaf rumble and roar, which threatened us with death.

("Blessed memory")

The fountain pen has always been my companion. I valued her very much, because she has a golden pen, and, to tell the truth, I write well only with such nibs. My pen has lived a long and interesting life, which I am going to tell you about now.

I was nine years old when my pen (carefully wrapped in cotton wool) arrived in a box labeled "No Price". This beautiful gift was sent by my dear grandmother - then she still lived in Aachen. I had the flu, lay in bed, and the February wind howled outside. A wonderful pen in a red leather case was immediately shown to my friends and acquaintances. I, Anne Frank, have become the proud owner of a fountain pen!

When I was ten years old, I got permission to take a pen to school, and the teacher let me use it in class.

Unfortunately, the next year I had to leave my treasure at home, because our sixth grade class teacher only allowed me to write with school pens.

When I was twelve years old and transferred to a Jewish gymnasium, I was given a new case with a pencil compartment and a chic zip fastening.

When I turned thirteen, the pen went with me to the shelter and here was my faithful assistant in correspondence with you and in my studies. Now I'm fourteen and my pen has been with me for the last year of my life...

On Friday evening, I left my room for the common room and wanted to sit down at the table to work. But I was ruthlessly driven away, since my father and Margo studied Latin. The pen remained on the table... Anna, on the other hand, had to be content with the very edge of the table, and, sighing heavily, she began to “rub the beans,” that is, to peel the moldy brown beans.

At a quarter to six, I swept the floor and threw the trash, along with the bean skins, right into the stove. A strong flame immediately waved, and I was very happy, because the fire had already gone out, and then it suddenly flared up again. Meanwhile, the "Latinists" finished their business, and now I could sit down at the table and study. But my pen was nowhere to be found. I searched everything around, Margo helped me, then my mother joined us, then my father and Dussel were looking for, but my faithful girlfriend disappeared without a trace.

“Perhaps it went into the oven with the beans,” Margot suggested.

"It can not be!" I answered. But my dear pen was never found, and by the evening we decided that it had burned down, especially since plastic burns so well. And it’s true, our sad guess was confirmed - the next morning, dad found a tip in the hall. There was no trace left of the golden pen. “Obviously, it melted and mixed with the ashes,” Dad decided. But I have one consolation, albeit a very weak one: my pen was cremated, which I - someday in the future - wish for myself!

Dear Kitty!

Last night, when I was already falling asleep, I suddenly clearly saw Liz.

She stood in front of me - ragged, exhausted, her cheeks sunken. Her large eyes were turned to me with reproach, as if she wanted to say: “Anna, why did you leave me? Help me! Get me out of this hell!"

And I can’t help her in any way, I have to watch with folded hands how people suffer and die, and I can only pray to God that he save her and let us see each other again. Why I introduced myself to Liz, and not someone else is quite understandable. I judged her incorrectly, childishly, I did not understand her fears. She loved her friend very much and was afraid that I wanted to quarrel them. It was very difficult for her. I know, I know this feeling well!

Sometimes I briefly thought about her, but then I went out of selfishness into my joys and sorrows. I behaved terribly, and now she stands in front of me, pale, sad, and looks at me with pleading eyes ... If only I could help her with anything!

Lord, how is it - I have everything you want, and such a terrible fate awaits her! She believed in God no less than I did and always wanted the best for everyone. Why am I destined to live, and she, perhaps, will soon die? What is the difference between us? Why are we separated from her?

To be honest, I haven't thought about her in months, yes, almost a year. It’s not that she didn’t remember at all, but simply never thought about her, never imagined her the way she appeared to me now in her terrible misfortune.

Ah, Liz, I hope you'll always be with us, if you survive the war! I would do everything in the world for you, everything that I missed ...

But when I can help her, she will no longer need my help. Does she remember me at least occasionally? And with what feeling?

Lord, help her, make sure that she does not feel abandoned by everyone. Let her know that I think of her with compassion and love. Maybe that will give her the strength to endure. No, you don't have to think about her anymore. I see her all the time. Her huge eyes are right in front of me.

Has faith sunk deep into Liz's heart, or is it all forced on her by her elders? I don't know, I never asked her about it. Liz, dear Liz, if I could have you back, if I could share everything I have with you! It's too late, now I can't help, now you can't fix what's missing. But I will never forget her, I will always pray for her!

Dear Kitty!

What a fool I am! It never occurred to me to tell you about myself and all my fans.

When I was very young, almost in kindergarten, I really liked Karl Samson. He did not have a father, he lived with his mother with his aunt. The aunt's son, his cousin Bobby, a smart, slender, dark-haired boy, everyone liked much more than the funny little fat man Carl. But I did not pay attention to appearance and for many years I was friends with Karl. For a long time we were real good comrades, but I did not fall in love with anyone.

Then Peter stood in my way, and the first childhood love completely captured me. He also liked me, and we were inseparable for the whole summer. I see the two of us - we roam the streets, holding hands, he is in a linen suit, I am in a summer dress.

After the holidays, he entered the real, and I went to the senior preparatory class. He followed me to school, then I followed him. Peter was very handsome - tall, slender, well-built, with a calm, serious and intelligent face. He had dark hair, ruddy, tanned cheeks, wonderful brown eyes, and a thin nose. I especially liked when he laughed. He had such a mischievous, childish look.

We left for the summer holidays. When we returned, Peter moved to another apartment and now lived next to one boy, he was much older than Peter, but made friends with him that you couldn’t spill water! Probably, this boy told him that I was completely small, and Peter stopped being friends with me. I loved him so much that at first I could never come to terms with this, but then I realized that if I started running after him, they would tease me as a “bachelor party”.

Years passed. Peter was friends only with girls of his age, and he didn’t even say hello to me, but I couldn’t forget him.

When I moved to a Jewish gymnasium, many boys from my class fell in love with me. I was very pleased, I felt flattered, but in general it did not touch me.

Then Harry fell madly in love with me. But like I said, I didn't love anyone else.

As the proverb says, "Time heals all wounds."

So it was with me. But I imagined that I had forgotten Peter and that I was completely indifferent to him. But the memory of him lived firmly in my subconscious, and one day I had to admit to myself: I was so tormented by jealousy for his familiar girls that I deliberately tried not to think about him.

And this morning it became clear to me that nothing had changed, on the contrary: the older and more mature I became, the more my love grew. Now I understand that Peter then considered me a child, and yet it was hard and bitter for me that he had forgotten me so quickly. I see him in front of me so clearly that I understand: no one else will fill my thoughts like that.

The dream completely blew my mind. When dad wanted to kiss me in the morning, I almost screamed: “Oh, why aren’t you Peter!” I think about him all the time, I keep repeating to myself all day: “Oh Peter, my dear Peter!”

Once, when my dad and I were talking about sexual matters, he said that I still did not understand what “attraction” was. But I knew that I understood, and now I understand everything for sure!

Nothing is dearer to me than you, my Petel!

I looked in the mirror - my face was completely different. The eyes are deep and bright, the cheeks are as pink as ever, and the mouth seems softer. I look happy, and yet there is a kind of sadness in my eyes, which extinguishes the smile on my lips. I can't be happy because I know Peter isn't thinking about me right now. But again I feel the look of his lovely eyes on me and his cool, tender cheek against my cheek ...

Oh Petel, Petel, how can I erase your image? Is it possible to imagine someone in your place? What a pathetic fake! I love you so much that love does not decrease in my heart, it wants to break free, open in all its strength!

A week ago, no, even yesterday, if someone had asked me who I would like to marry, I would have said: “I don’t know.” And now I'm ready to shout: "For Peter, only for Peter, I love him with all my heart, with all my soul, without limit and yet I don't want him to be too insistent, no, I'll just let him touch my cheek."

I sat in the attic today and thought about him. And after a short conversation, we both began to cry, and again I felt his lips, the infinitely tender touch of his cheek.

"Oh Peter, think of me, come to me, my dear, dear Peter!"

Dear Kitty!

Explain to me, please, why most people are so afraid to open their inner world? Why do I behave in society in a completely different way? There are probably reasons for this, I know, but it is still incomprehensible that even with the closest people you are never completely frank.

I feel like after that dream I matured a lot, somehow became more “human”. You will probably be surprised if I reveal to you that even about the van Daans I now judge differently. I look at our disputes and skirmishes without the former prejudice.

Why have I changed so much?

You see, I thought a lot about the fact that the relationship between us could have turned out very differently if my mother had been a real perfect “mom”. No doubt, Fru van Daan cannot be called a well-mannered person. But it seems to me that half of these eternal wranglings could have been avoided if my mother had been an easier person and did not aggravate relations. Fru van Daan has her positive qualities, you can negotiate with her. Despite all her selfishness, pettiness and quarrelsomeness, she easily makes concessions, if she is not annoyed and provoked. True, it does not last long, but with some patience you can cope with it. It is only necessary to discuss in a friendly, frank manner questions about our upbringing, about self-indulgence, about food, and so on. Then we wouldn't look for each other's bad traits!

I know, I know what you'll say, Kitty!

“Are these your thoughts, Anna? And you are writing this, you, about whom the "upper" people have said so many bad things? You who have known so much injustice." Yes, I am writing this! I want to get to the bottom of everything myself, I don’t want to live by the old proverb: “As the grandfathers sang ...” No, I will study the van Daans and find out what is true and what is an exaggeration. And if I am also disappointed in them, then I will sing the same song as my parents. But if the “upper” turns out to be better than they are said to be, I will try to destroy the false impression that my parents have, and if not, I will remain with my opinion and my judgment. I will use any pretext to speak with Fru van Daan on various topics, and I will not hesitate to impartially express my opinion. It's not for nothing that they call me Fraulein the Know-It-All.

Of course, I'm not going to go against my family, but I don't believe in gossip anymore! Until now, I was firmly convinced that the van Daans were to blame for everything, but perhaps part of the blame lies with us.

As a matter of fact, we must always be right. But reasonable people - and we count ourselves among them - still need to be expected that they will be able to get along with a variety of people. I hope that I will put into practice what I am now convinced of.

Dear Kitty!

When I go upstairs, I always try to see "him". My life has become much easier, it has meaning again, there is something to rejoice at.

It’s good that the “subject” of my friendly feelings always sits at home and I have nothing to be afraid of my rivals (except Margot). Don't think I'm in love, not at all. But I have a feeling that something very good is growing between me and Peter, and our friendship, our trust will become even stronger. As soon as the opportunity arises, I run to him. Now it’s not at all like before, when he didn’t know what to talk about with me. He keeps talking and talking, even when I'm about to leave.

Mom doesn't like it very much that I go upstairs so often. She says, "Don't bother Peter, leave him alone." Doesn't she understand that these are very special, emotional experiences? Every time I come from there, he will certainly ask where I have been. I can't stand it. A disgusting habit.

Dear Kitty!

When I look back at my life before 1942, everything seems unreal to me. That life was led by a completely different Anna, not the one who had grown so smart here. Yes, it was a wonderful life! A lot of fans, twenty girlfriends and acquaintances, almost all teachers love, parents indulge recklessly, as many delicacies, money - what else?

You ask how I managed to conquer everyone? When Peter says that I have "charm", it's not quite true. The teachers liked my resourcefulness, my witty remarks, my cheerful smile and my critical eye for things - all this seemed to them sweet, funny and entertaining. I was a terrible "flirt", flirting and having fun. But at the same time, I also had good qualities - diligence, directness, goodwill. I allowed everyone to cheat without distinction, never imagined, and handed out all sorts of sweets right and left. Maybe I would become arrogant because everyone admired me so much? Perhaps it was even better that, in the midst of the holiday, I was suddenly thrown into the most everyday life, but more than a year passed before I got used to the fact that no one admired me anymore.

What was my name at school? The main ringleader in all tricks and pranks - I was always the first, I never whined, I was not capricious. No wonder everyone enjoyed walking me to school and giving me a thousand compliments.

That Anna seems to me a very nice, but superficial girl, with whom now I have nothing in common. Peter very correctly remarked: “When I met you before, you were always surrounded by two or three boys and a whole brood of girls, you were always laughing, naughty, always in the center.”

What is left of this girl? Of course, I have not yet forgotten how to laugh, I still know how to answer everyone, I can just as well - and maybe even better - understand people, I know how to flirt ... if you want. Of course, I would like at least one more evening, at least a few days or a week to live as cheerfully, as carelessly as before, but I know that by the end of this week I would be so tired of everything that I would be grateful to the first person I met who spoke be serious with me. I don’t need fans - I need friends, I don’t want to be admired by my sweet smile - I want to be appreciated for my inner essence, for my character. I know perfectly well that then the circle of acquaintances will become much narrower. But it does not matter, as long as a few friends remain with me, real, sincere friends!

However, at that time I was not always serenely happy. Often I felt lonely, but since I was busy from morning to evening, there was no time to think about it and I had fun with might and main. Consciously or unconsciously, but I tried to fill the void with a joke. Now I look back on my past life and get to work. A whole piece of life is irretrievably gone. Carefree, carefree school days will never return.

Yes, I do not miss that life, I grew out of it. I no longer know how to have fun so carelessly, always deep down I remain serious.

I see my life before the beginning of 1944 as if through a magnifying glass. At home - a sunny life, then - in 1942 - moving here, a sharp change, quarrels, accusations. I could not immediately digest this change, it knocked me down, and I held on and resisted only with insolence.

The first half of 1943: eternal tears, loneliness, a gradual understanding of one's mistakes and shortcomings, and really very big ones, although they seem to be even bigger.

I tried to explain everything, I tried to win Pim over to my side - it did not work out. And I had to solve a difficult problem alone: ​​to reorganize myself so as not to hear the eternal instructions that drove me almost to despair.

The second half of the year turned out better: I grew up, they began to communicate with me more often as with an adult. I thought more, started writing stories and came to the conclusion that no one has the right to throw me like a ball. I wanted to shape my character myself, at my own will. And one more thing: I realized that my father could not be my attorney in everything. I won't trust anyone more than myself.

After the New Year - the second big change - my dream ... After it, I realized my longing for a friend: not for a girl friend, but for a boy friend. I discovered happiness within myself, discovered that my frivolity and cheerfulness are only a protective shell. Gradually, I became calmer and felt a boundless craving for goodness, for beauty.

And in the evening, lying in bed, when I finish the prayer with the words: “Thank you for everything good, sweet and beautiful,” everything rejoices in me. I remember everything “good”: our salvation, my recovery, then everything “sweet”: Peter and that timid, tender, which we are both still afraid to touch, that which will come - love, passion, happiness. And then I remember everything “beautiful”, it is in the whole world, in nature, in art, in beauty, in everything that is beautiful and majestic

Then I think not about grief, but about the wonderful that exists besides it. That's the main difference between me and my mom. When a person is in anguish, she advises him: “Think about how much grief there is in the world, and be grateful that you don’t have to worry about it.”

And I advise something else: “Go to the field, to freedom, to the sun, go to freedom, try to find happiness in yourself, in God. Think about the beautiful things that are happening in your soul and around you, and be happy.”

In my opinion, my mother's advice is wrong. And if you yourself have misfortune, then what to do? Then you are gone. And I believe that beauty always remains: nature, the sun, freedom, what is in your soul. You have to hold on to it, then you will find yourself, you will find God, then you will endure everything.

And the one who is happy himself can give happiness to others. He who has courage and stamina never gives up even in misfortune!

Dear Kitty!

And yet it is very difficult for me. Do you know what I mean? I yearn for a kiss, for that kiss that has been waiting for so long. Does he only look at me as a friend? Can't I be something more to him? You know, and I myself know that I am strong, that I can bear almost all difficulties alone, and that I am not used to sharing them with anyone. I never clung to my mother. And now I really want to put my head on his shoulder and just calm down!

Never, never will I forget how in my dream I felt Peter's cheek and what an amazing, wonderful feeling it was! Doesn't he want it? Maybe only shyness prevents him from confessing his love? But why does he so want me to always be near him? Oh, why won't he say anything? No, I won't, I'll try to be calm. We must remain strong, we must patiently wait - and everything will come true. But ... but here's the worst thing: it looks like I'm running after him, because I always follow him upstairs, and he doesn't come to me. But it depends only on the location of our rooms, he must understand this! Oh, a lot, a lot he still needs to understand!

Dear Kitty!

You asked me what I am most interested in, what I am fond of, and I answer you. Don't be afraid, I have a lot of these interests!

In the first place is literature, but this, in essence, cannot be called just a hobby.

Secondly, I am interested in the bloodlines of the royal houses. From newspapers, books and magazines I have collected material about French, German, Spanish, English, Austrian, Russian, Norwegian and Dutch royal houses and have already systematized a lot, because I have been making extracts from all the biographical and historical books that I read for a long time. I even rewrite entire passages of history. So history is my third passion; Dad bought me a lot of historical books. I can't wait for the day when I can dig through the public library again.

Fourthly, I am interested in Greek and Roman mythology, and I also have many books on this subject. Then I get into collecting movie star portraits and family photographs. I love books, reading and am interested in everything related to writers, poets and artists, as well as art history. Maybe later I will start to get involved in music. I have a certain antipathy towards algebra, geometry and arithmetic. I love all other school subjects, but history most of all!

Dear Kitty!

Remember yesterday forever - it cannot be forgotten, because it is the most important day in my life. And for every girl, the day when she was kissed for the first time is the most important day! Here I have too. The time Brahm kissed my right cheek doesn't count, and the time Mr. Walker kissed my hand doesn't count either.

Listen to the first time they kissed me.

Last night, at eight o'clock, I was sitting with Peter on his couch, and he put his arm around my shoulders.

"Let's move a little bit," I said, "because I keep banging my head against the box."

He moved almost to the corner. I slipped my arm under his arm and wrapped around him, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders even tighter. We often sat next to him, but never before had we been as close as we were this evening. He pulled me close to him so tightly that my heart beat against his chest. But then it got even better. He pulled me closer and closer until my head was on his shoulder and his head was on mine. And when, after about five minutes, I sat up straight again, he quickly took my head with both hands and again drew me to him. I felt so good, so wonderful, I could not say a word, I just enjoyed this moment. He stroked my cheek and shoulder a little awkwardly, played with my curls, and we did not move, pressing our heads to each other. I can't describe to you, Kitty, the feeling that overwhelmed me! I was happy, and he, I think, too. At half past eight we got up, and Peter began to put on gymnastic shoes so as not to stomp when going around the house. I stood nearby. How it suddenly happened, I don’t know myself, but before going downstairs, he kissed my hair somewhere between my left cheek and ear. I ran downstairs without looking back and ... I dream about tonight.

Dear friend!

What could be better in the world than to look at nature from an open window, listen to the birds sing, feel the sun on your cheeks and, embracing a sweet boy, stand silently, clinging tightly to each other? I do not believe that this is bad, from this silence my soul becomes light. Ah, if only no one violated it - not even Mushi!

Dear Kitty!

I will never forget my dream about Peter Vasael. As soon as I think about him, I again feel his cheek against mine, again I experience this wonderful sensation. With Peter (local) I also experienced this feeling, but not with such force ... until yesterday, when we were sitting on the couch side by side, as always, hugging tightly. And suddenly that former Anna disappeared and another Anna appeared. That other Anna, in whom there is neither frivolity, nor gaiety - she only wants to love, wants to be affectionate.

I sat cuddled up to him and felt my heart overflowing. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his face right onto his jacket. Did he notice? He didn't betray himself with a single movement. Does he feel what I feel? He hardly said a word. Does he know that there are two Annas next to him? So many questions and no answers!

At half past nine I got up, went to the window, where we always say goodbye. I was still trembling, I was that other Anna. He came up to me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his left cheek. But when I wanted to kiss him on the right, my lips met his lips. In confusion, we pressed our lips again, again and again, without end!

How Peter needs affection! For the first time, he discovered what a girl is, for the first time he realized that these "imps" also have a heart, that they are completely different when you are left alone with them. For the first time in his life, he gave his friendship, all of himself - because he never had a friend in his life, never had a girlfriend. Now we have found each other. I didn’t know him either, I didn’t have a loved one either, but now I do.

But the question is constantly tormenting me: “Is it good, is it right that I give in so much that I have as much ardor in me as in Peter? Is it possible for me, a girl, to give myself free rein like that?

And there is only one answer to that:

“I missed so much, I yearned for so long, I was so lonely - and now I found comfort and joy!” In the morning we are the same as always, and in the afternoon too, but in the evening there is nothing to hold back our craving for each other, one cannot help but think about bliss, about the happiness of each meeting. And here we belong only to ourselves. And every evening, after a farewell kiss, I want to leave, leave as soon as possible so as not to look into his eyes, run, run, stay alone in the dark.

But as soon as I go down fourteen steps - and where do I get to! In a brightly lit room where they talk, laugh, start asking me questions - and I have to answer in such a way that no one notices anything. My heart is too full to immediately shake off everything that I experienced last night. That gentle, meek Anna rarely wakes up in me, but it is all the more difficult to immediately kick her out the door. Peter touched me deeply, as deeply as ever, never, except in a dream! Peter took me completely, he turned everything in me inside out. It is not surprising that after such experiences, each person needs to calm down, come to his senses, restore inner balance. Oh Peter, what are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will happen next? Ah, now I understand Ellie, now that I've experienced all this myself, I understand her doubts. If I were older and he wanted to marry me - what would I answer him? Anna, be honest! You wouldn't marry him, but it's so hard to refuse him! Peter's character has not yet been established, he has too little energy, too little courage, strength. He is still a child, mentally he is no older than me, and more than anything in the world he wants peace, he wants happiness.

Am I only fourteen years old? Am I just a stupid girl, a schoolgirl? Am I really that inexperienced in everything? But I have more experience than others, I have experienced something that rarely anyone at my age will survive. I am afraid of myself, I am afraid that I will succumb to passion too soon, and then how will I behave with other boys? Oh, how hard it is for me, how mind and heart struggle in me, how it is necessary to give them free rein - to each in his own hour! But am I sure that I will be able to choose the right hour?

Dear Kitty!

On Saturday night I asked Peter if I should tell my dad about us, and Peter hesitated a little and said that was the right thing to do. I was delighted - another proof of his inner purity. Going downstairs, I immediately went with my father for water and already on the stairs I said to him:

“Dad, you certainly understand that when Peter and I are together, we do not sit a meter apart. Do you think it's bad?"

The father did not answer immediately, and then said:

“No, Anna, there is nothing wrong with that, but still here, when you live in such proximity, you have to be more careful.”

He said something else in the same spirit, and we went upstairs. And on Sunday morning he called me to his place and said:

“Anna, I thought it over again (here I got scared). As a matter of fact, here in the shelter, it's not very good. I thought you and Peter were just comrades. Is Peter in love with you?

"Not a bit!" - I said.

“You see, Anna, you know that I understand you perfectly, but you should be more restrained, not encourage him too much. Don't go upstairs so often. A man in these relationships is always more active, a woman must restrain him. Out there, it's a different matter. There you meet other boys and girls, you can go for walks, play sports, whatever. But if you spend too much time together here, and then you stop liking it, everything will be much more complicated. You see each other all the time, almost all the time. Be careful, Anna, don't take your relationship seriously."

“Yes, I don’t accept, dad. And then Peter is a very decent, good boy.”

“Yes, but his character is unstable, it is easy to influence him both for good and for bad. I hope, for his own sake, that he stays good, because basically he's a decent person."

We talked some more and agreed that my father would talk to Peter as well. On Sunday, after dinner, when we were sitting upstairs, Peter asked:

“Have you spoken to your father, Anna?”

“Yes,” I said, “I will tell you everything. He sees nothing wrong, but he believes that here, where we live in such close quarters, a quarrel can easily occur between us.

“But we agreed not to quarrel, and I firmly decided that it would be so.”

“Me too, Peter, but my father thought that everything was different with us, that we were just comrades. Do you think it can't be anymore?"

“In my opinion, maybe. What do you think?"

“And I think so too. I told my father that I would trust you. And I really trust you, Peter, I trust you completely, as a dad, and I think that you are worthy of trust, right?

"Hope". (Here he blushed and became embarrassed.)

“I believe in you, I believe that you have a good character, that you will achieve a lot in life.”

We talked about many other things, then I said:

“When we get out of here, you probably won’t care about me, right?”

He flushed all over: “No, it’s not true, Anna! Don't you dare think of me like that!"

They called me here...

On Monday, Peter told me that his father had spoken to him as well.

"Your father thinks that friendship can grow into love, but I told him that he can rely on us."

Now dad wants me to go upstairs less in the evenings, but I don't agree to that. And not only because I love visiting Peter, I explained to my father that I trust Peter. Yes, I trust him and I want to prove it. But how can I prove it if I sit downstairs out of distrust?

No, I'll go upstairs to him!

Meanwhile, the drama with Dussel ended. On Saturday, at dinner, he gave a beautiful, carefully considered speech in Dutch. Dussel must have been preparing this “lesson” all day. We celebrated his birthday on Sunday, very quietly. From us he got a bottle of 1919 wine, from the Van Daans (now they could give him a present!) he got a jar of pickles and a bag of razor blades, from Kraler a lemon jam, from Miep a book, and from Ellie a pot of flowers. He gave us all a boiled egg.

Dear Kitty!

Every day something happens! Our glorious greengrocer was arrested this morning - he hid two Jews in his house. For us, this is a heavy blow, and not only because these Jews are on the verge of death: we are afraid for this poor man.

The whole world has gone crazy. Decent people are sent to concentration camps, to prisons, alone, and the old and the young, the rich and the poor are tormented by the bastards. Some are caught on what they bought on the black market, others on what they hid Jews or underground fighters. No one knows what awaits him tomorrow. And for us, the arrest of the greengrocer is a heavy loss. Our girls cannot, and should not, carry potatoes themselves, and we have only one thing to do - eat less. How we manage to do this - I will write to you, in any case - the pleasure is weak. Mom says that there will be no breakfast in the morning, bread and porridge for dinner, fried potatoes in the evening, sometimes salad or a few vegetables twice a week and nothing else. This means that we will have to starve, but everything is not as scary as if we were discovered.

Dear Kitty!

My birthday has passed. I am fifteen years old. Received quite a few gifts: five volumes of Springer's history of art, a set of underwear, two belts, a handkerchief, two bottles of kefir, a jar of jam, a gingerbread, a botany textbook from mom and dad, a bracelet from Margot, another book from the van Daans, a box of bio-maltz from Dussel, all sorts of sweets and notebooks from Miep and Elli and, best of all, the book "Maria-Therese" and three slices of real cheese from Kraler. Peter gave me a wonderful bouquet of roses, the poor boy tried so hard to get something for me, but found nothing.

The Allied landings are going well, despite bad weather, terrible storms and downpours on the high seas.

Churchill, Smuts, Eisenhower and Arnold yesterday visited the French villages, which are occupied and liberated by the British. Churchill arrived on a torpedo boat, which was fired upon from the shore. This man, like many men, has no sense of fear at all! Even enviable!

From here, from our refuge, it is impossible to make out what the mood is in the Netherlands, you can’t figure it out. Of course, people are glad that "inert" England finally got down to business. Everyone who looks down on the British, scolds the British government with "old bars", calls England cowardly and at the same time hates the Germans, should be given a good shake. Maybe if these people are shaken, their tangled brains will fall back into place!

Dear Kitty!

Again, hope woke up, again, finally, everything is fine! And how good! Incredible news! An assassination attempt was made on Hitler, and not by some “Jewish communist” or “English capitalist”, no, this was done by a general of noble German blood, a count, and a young one at that! "Heavenly providence" saved the Fuhrer's life, and, unfortunately, he escaped with scratches and trifling burns. Several officers and generals from his retinue were killed, others were wounded. The culprit was shot. Here is proof that many generals and officers are fed up with the war and would gladly send Hitler to hell. They seek to establish a military dictatorship after Hitler's death, then to make peace with the allies, to arm again, and twenty years later to start the war again. Or maybe Providence deliberately delayed the destruction of Hitler a little, because it is much more convenient and profitable for the Allies if the "purebred" Germans quarrel among themselves and destroy each other, then the Russians and the British will have less work to do and they will be able to start rebuilding their cities the sooner. But it hasn't come to that yet, and I don't want to anticipate a brilliant future. But you probably understood that everything I talk about is sober facts, they stand with both feet on real soil. As an exception, I don’t add anything about “lofty ideals” here.

In addition, Hitler was so kind as to inform his beloved and devoted people that from today all military men are subordinate to the Gestapo and that every soldier who learns that his commander took part in the "vile and base assassination" can, without further circumlocution shoot him.

This is going to be history! Hans Dampf's legs hurt from running around, his commander yelled at him. Hans grabs a rifle, shouts: “You wanted to kill the Fuhrer, here you are for it!” A volley - and the arrogant commander, who dared to shout at the poor soldier, passed into eternal life (or into eternal death - as they say?). It will come to the point that gentlemen officers will put on their pants with fear and will be afraid to even utter a word in front of the soldiers.

Did you understand or did I blather God knows what again? There's nothing to be done, I'm too happy to write coherently, at the mere thought that in October I will sit down at my desk again! Oh la la, yes, I myself just wrote: “I don’t want to anticipate the future!” Don't get angry, it's not for nothing that they call me "a tangle of contradictions"!

Dear Kitty!

"Tangle of contradictions"! This is the last sentence of the last letter, and I begin today with it. "Tangle of Contradictions" - can you explain to me what that means? What does "contradiction" mean? Like many other words, and this word has a double meaning: a contradiction to someone and an internal contradiction?

The first sense usually means: “do not accept the opinions of other people, consider that you know everything better than anyone, always reserve the last word” - in general, all those unpleasant qualities that are attributed to me. And the second nobody knows, it is a personal secret.

Once I told you that I have, in fact, not one soul, but two. In one lies my unbridled gaiety, an ironic attitude to everything, cheerfulness and my main property - to treat everything easily. By this I mean this: do not attach importance to flirting, kissing, hugging, ambiguous joke. And this soul in me is always ready, it displaces another, more beautiful, pure and deep. But no one knows that good side of Anna, because so few people tolerate me.

Yes, of course, I am a cheerful clown for one evening, and then nobody needs me for a whole month. Just like a love movie for serious people: just entertainment, rest for an hour, something that you immediately forget, neither good nor bad. I hate to tell you this a little, but why not tell me if it's true? My frivolous, superficial soul always overcomes that deep one, defeats it. You have no idea how often I tried to push away, paralyze, hide this Anna, who after all is only half of what is called Anna, but nothing comes out, and I know why.

I'm afraid that everyone who knows me as I always am will suddenly discover that I have another side, much better, much kinder. I am afraid that they will mock me, call me funny and sentimental, and not take me seriously. I’m used to being treated lightly, but only “light” Anna is used to this, she can endure it, and the other, “serious”, is too weak for this. And if I ever forcibly drag "good" Anna onto the stage, she shrinks like a don't-touch-me plant, and as soon as she needs to speak, she releases Anna number one in her place and disappears before I can recover. .

And it turns out that that "sweet" Anna never appears in public, but when I'm alone, she dominates. I know exactly what I want to be, what I am ... in my soul, but, unfortunately, I am like that only for myself. And maybe - no, even for sure - this is the reason why I think that I am by nature deep and secretive, and others that I am sociable and superficial. Inside, that "clean" and "good" Anna always shows me the way, and outwardly I'm just a cheerful jumping goat.

And, as I said, I don’t feel everything the way I tell others, that’s why the opinion was created about me that I run after boys, flirt, stick my nose everywhere, read novels. And the “merry” Anna laughs at this, is impudent, shrugs her shoulders indifferently, pretends that this does not concern her at all. But - alas! That other, “quiet” Anna thinks quite differently. And since I am absolutely honest with you, I confess: I am very sorry that I am making incredible efforts to change myself, to become different, but every time I have to fight with what is stronger than me.

And everything in me is crying: "See, this is what happened: you have a bad reputation, around you there are mocking or upset faces, you are unsympathetic to people - and all because you do not listen to the advice of your better self. Oh, I I would obey, but nothing comes of it: as soon as I become serious and quiet, everyone thinks that this is a pretense, and I have to save myself with a joke. Not to mention my family, they immediately begin to suspect that I am ill, they give pills for headaches, from nerves, they feel my pulse and my forehead - if I have a fever, they ask if my stomach was working, and then they blame me for my bad mood. I turn my heart inside out, the bad on the outside and the good on the inside, and I start looking for means - to become what I would like, what I could become if ... yes, if there were no other people in the world ...

This is where Anna's diary ends.

On August 4, the “green police” attacked the “shelter”, arrested everyone who was hiding there, along with Kraler and Koophuis, and took them to German and Dutch concentration camps.

The Gestapo destroyed the "asylum". Among the old books, magazines and newspapers thrown at random, Miep and Ellie found Anna's diary. Apart from a few pages, the diary was printed in full.

Of all those hiding, only Anna's father returned. Kraler and Koophoye endured many hardships in the Dutch camps and returned to their families.

Anna died in March 1945 in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, two months before the liberation of Holland.

According to the materials of the magazine "WE".

Shining eyes, with an eternal grin in the corners, black flowing hair and a charming smile. This girl could be 90 years old today. Could...

Running away...

Anne Frank's childhood began with an escape. At the age of 4, she fled with her family from Frankfurt am Main to Amsterdam. In Weimar Germany, where Anna was born, the National Socialists won the elections in 1933. Hitler came to power, and life in his native Frankfurt became dangerous and impossible.

Anna's family was from among the assimilated Jews. Father, Otto Frank, was a retired officer, engaged in science, owned one of the best libraries in Germany. His wife, Edith, took care of the household and raised their daughters. The eldest girl, Margo, was born into the Frank family in 1926, and three years later, baby Anna appeared.

The Franks did not wait until they came for them. First, Otto went to the Netherlands. He settled in Amsterdam and found a job - he became the director of the Opekta joint-stock company, engaged in the production of spices, jam additives and food additives. Then his wife went to him, leaving the girls in the care of their grandmother, and then, when Otto and Edith settled down, they took their daughters.

Until 1940, life in the Netherlands was beautiful and calm. The country signed neutrality with Germany, and the Jews had the hope that they could be safe here.

Anne Frank was first assigned to a kindergarten at the Montessori school, and then she entered the first grade of this educational institution. The girl from an early age showed a talent for literature and languages, and teachers adored her.

When in 1940 she had to leave school and go to a Jewish lyceum, the class teacher sobbed, but could not help it.

1940

Contrary to the neutrality treaty, in 1940 Germany occupied the Netherlands, immediately starting to implement its own rules here. At first, Jews were not arrested, but a number of restrictions were imposed. There were so many of them that it seemed that the Jews could not even breathe.

All Jews were forced to sew yellow stars on their chests, they were forbidden to visit theaters, cinemas, go to museums, baths, swimming pools, restaurants and cafes, go outside after 20.00, ride public transport, use bicycles, cars, even their own. Jewish children were forbidden to study in classes with other children.

Then the arrests began...

Diary of Anne Frank

On her thirteenth birthday, Anne Frank asked her father for a thick beautiful autograph album, which was locked with a small lock. She fell in love with him at first sight and immediately decided that she would keep her diary in him.

At first, Anna described in her diary her class, her friends, her first love and her first feelings about it. She kept it for herself. But gradually, imperceptibly, a completely different reality began to burst into the girl's story.

Anna dreamed of being an actress and therefore did not miss a single premiere before the war - now the new regime has banned Jews from visiting cinemas. She loved to visit cafes with friends - but in the end there were only two such cafes where they were not kicked out. It was very difficult for her to study, because she had to get to classes on foot. And if after school you also had to run to the dentist, then it’s generally a disaster - by the evening your legs fell off from fatigue, because you had to keep up on foot everywhere. That's when Anna really appreciated the beauty of the tram.

But once even such a life became inaccessible for Anna. In July 1941, the doorbell to the Franks' apartment rang and handed over two subpoenas to the Gestapo - addressed to Otto and Margot Frank.

And the head of the family gave the command: to the shelter.

asylum

He's been preparing it for a month now. Otto Frank saw, felt, understood that the ring around the Jews was shrinking, and a decision had to be made on how to escape. The building where Opekta's office was located stood over the canal. House 263 on the Prinsengracht embankment. All houses of this type had a front part and a back part. The inner parts of the houses above the canals were most often empty, as they were not very convenient to use. This is the back part that Otto Frank decided to use as a shelter. Two of his friends from the company helped with the arrangement of the interior. The front door to the inner apartments was disguised as a filing cabinet.

Anne Frank in her diary describes in detail the room where they now had to live. Together with the Franks, four more of their Jewish friends began to take refuge here. Only eight people. Anna and Margot had one room for two. The concrete gray walls looked very dull, but fortunately Otto took with him a bunch of all sorts of photographs and postcards of his girls' star idols. Together they hung them on the walls, and the room became much more cheerful.

The windows had to be covered with thick curtains. No one from the outside world should suspect that someone is in these empty rooms.

Anne Frank, in her diary, describes in detail how they learned to speak quietly, how poor Margot, who had a cold, was given codeine to the point of insanity to stifle her cough. Sometimes at night, very, very rarely, they would get out of their hiding place to sneak into their father's office and listen to the radio of the free world.

On one of these sorties, it was already at the beginning of 1944, she heard the speech of the Minister of Education of the Netherlands, who was in evacuation. He urged all citizens of the country to keep their notes, diaries - any documents that could become evidence of suffering at the hands of the Nazis.

Hearing this, Anne Frank undertook to rewrite her diary. She decided to write a book based on her diary entries. They were built in the form of a letter to his imaginary friend Kitty. This form allowed the girl to write about anything she considered important.

When rewriting, Anna deleted some pieces, supplemented some fragments with important, in her opinion, memories.

Denunciation and arrest

Despite extreme precautions, one of the neighbors did find out that some people were hiding in the back of the 263rd building and informed the Gestapo. On August 4, 1944, at about half past eleven in the morning, a car stopped near the front door. Four Gestapo men got out of it, and a raid began. Everyone who was in the house, including Opekta employees who helped the Jews from the shelter, were arrested. Four days later, they were all sent to first a transit camp and then to Auschwitz.

Otto was immediately forcibly separated from the family. Edith and the girls stuck together. They fell into the hands of the sadist Josef Mengele. He sent to death all children under 15 years of age. Anne Frank was barely 15. She was not suffocated in the gas chamber, but sent to work beyond the strength of a child. Exhausting labor, hunger and disease took their toll. The mother of the girls was the first to die of exhaustion. Margot and Anna clung to each other and to life with the last of their strength.

The Soviet army was only 100 km from Auschwitz when the girls were loaded into a wagon and, along with the last stage, sent to the Bergen-Benzel concentration camp. At the new place, Margo fell ill with typhus, and soon Anna was also struck by typhoid fever.

One day in April, Margo lost consciousness and fell from her bunk onto the concrete floor and lay there without help until she died from an electric shock. After the death of her sister, Anna did not have the strength to fight for life. She lost interest in her and died just a few days after Margot.

The only person who managed to survive the concentration camp was Otto Frank.

He dedicated the rest of his life to the memory of his family and Anna. His former worker, family friend Mip Heath, found the girl's diary immediately after the arrest of the Frank family and handed it over to his father after the war only when the information about Anna's death in a concentration camp was confirmed.

Anne Frank's diary has been published several times. Originally in 1947. Later there were several supplemented and expanded editions. Anne Frank's diary became a deadly document denouncing Nazism.

Anne Frank

Refuge. Diary in letters

© 1947 by Otto H. Frank, renewed 1974

© 1982, 1991, 2001 by The Anne Frank-Fonds, Basel, Switzerland

© "Text", edition in Russian, 2015

* * *

History of this book

Anne Frank kept a diary from June 12, 1942 to August 1, 1944. At first, she wrote her letters only for herself - until the spring of 1944, when she heard Bolkestein, Minister of Education in the Dutch government in exile, speak on the Oranje radio. The minister said that after the war, all evidence of the suffering of the Dutch people during the German occupation should be collected and published. For example, among other evidence, he named diaries. Impressed by this speech, Anna decided after the war to publish a book based on her diary.

She began to rewrite and revise her diary, making corrections, crossing out passages that did not seem very interesting to her, and adding others from memory. At the same time, she continued to keep the original diary, which in the scientific edition of 1986 is called version "a", in contrast to version "b" - a revised, second diary. Anna's last entry is dated August 1, 1944. On August 4, the Green Police arrested the eight hiding people.

On the same day, Miep Hees and Bep Voskuijl hid Anna's notes. Miep Hees kept them in her desk drawer, and when it finally became clear that Anna was no longer alive, she passed the diary, without reading it, to Otto H. Frank, Anna's father.

Otto Frank, after much deliberation, decided to fulfill the will of his late daughter and publish her notes in the form of a book. To do this, from both Anna's diaries - the original (version "a") and revised by herself (version "b") - he compiled an abridged version of "c". The diary was supposed to be released in a series, and the volume of the text was set by the publisher.

The book was published in 1947. At that time, it was not yet customary to touch sexual topics at ease, especially in books addressed to young people. Another important reason why the book did not include entire passages and some wording was that Otto Frank did not want to harm the memory of his wife and fellow prisoners in the Vault. Anne Frank kept a diary from the age of thirteen to fifteen, and in these notes expressed antipathy and indignation as frankly as her sympathies.

Otto Frank passed away in 1980. He officially bequeathed the original diary of his daughter to the State Institute for Military Archives in Amsterdam. Since since the 1950s doubts about the authenticity of the diary had constantly arisen, the Institute subjected all entries to a thorough examination. Only after their authenticity was established without any doubt, the diaries, along with the results of the research, were published. The study checked, in particular, family relations, facts related to the arrest and deportation, ink and paper used for writing, and Anne Frank's handwriting. This relatively voluminous work also contains information about all publications of the diary.

The Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, which, as Otto Frank's heir general, also inherited the copyright of his daughter, decided to undertake a new edition on the basis of all available texts. This does not in the least detract from the editorial work done by Otto Frank, work that gave the book its wide circulation and its political sound. The new edition was published under the editorship of the writer and translator Miriam Pressler. At the same time, Otto Frank's edition was used without abbreviations and only supplemented with excerpts from versions "a" and "b". The text, submitted by Miriam Pressler and approved by the Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, is a quarter longer than the previously published version and aims to give the reader a deeper understanding of Anne Frank's inner world.

In 1998, five previously unknown diary pages were discovered. By permission of the Anne Frank Foundation in Basel, this edition adds a long excerpt to the existing entry of 8 February 1944. At the same time, a short version of the entry dated June 20, 1942 is not included in this edition, since the diary already includes a more detailed entry dated this date. In addition, in accordance with the latest finds, the dating has been changed: the entry from November 7, 1942 is now assigned to October 30, 1943.

When Anne Frank wrote her second version ("b"), she decided which pseudonyms she would give to this or that person. She wanted to name herself first Anna Aulis, then Anna Robin. Otto Frank did not use these pseudonyms, but kept his real name, but other characters were called pseudonyms, as his daughter wanted. The assistants, who are now known to all, deserve to have their real names and surnames also preserved in the book; the names of all others correspond to the scientific edition. In cases where a person himself wished to remain anonymous, the State Institute designated him with arbitrarily chosen initials.

Here are the real names of the people hiding with the Frank family.

The Van Pels family (from Osnabrück): Augusta (born September 29, 1890), Hermann (born March 31, 1889), Peter (born November 9, 1929); Anna named them Petronella, Hans and Alfred Van Daan, in this edition Petronella, Herman and Peter Van Daan.

Fritz Pfeffer (b. 1889 in Giessen) and Anna herself, and is referred to in this book as Albert Düssel.

Diary of Anne Frank

I hope I can trust you with everything, as I have never trusted anyone else, and I hope that you will be a great support for me.

All this time, both you and Kitty, to whom I now write regularly, have been a great support to me. Keeping a diary in this way seems much more pleasant to me, and now I can not wait for the hour when I can write.

Oh, how glad I am that I took you with me!

I'll start with how I got you, that is, how I saw you on the table among the gifts (because they bought you with me, but that doesn't count).

On Friday, June 12, I woke up at six o'clock, and this is quite understandable - after all, it was my birthday. But it was impossible to get up at six in the morning, so I had to restrain my curiosity until a quarter to seven. I could not stand it any longer, went to the dining room, where Moortier, our cat, met me, and began to caress me.

At the beginning of the seventh, I went to my father and mother, and then to the living room to unwrap gifts, and the very first I saw you, probably one of the best gifts. There was also a bouquet, two peonies. Mom and Dad gave me a blue blouse, a board game, a bottle of grape juice, which I think smells like wine (wine is made from grapes), a puzzle, a jar of cream, two and a half guilders, and a ticket for two books. Then they gave me another book, Camera Obscura, but Margo already has one and I replaced it, a dish of homemade cookies (I made it myself, of course, because I’m a great cookie baker now), a lot of sweets and a strawberry cake from mothers. The letter from granny came the same day, but this, of course, was an accident.