The years have passed like pages turning in a book I never wanted to read but am proud to carry. I never met many of the faces my parents spoke of- friends and family lost to a darkness too vast to fully grasp. Yet their stories live within me, whispered in mother's gentle voice and carried in my papa's steady yet scarred hands.

I remember the small apartment in Berlin, the shadows that clung to its corners, and the soft light that always seemed to find its way through. My parents fought not just for survival but for a future where I could grow free. Their courage was the foundation beneath my feet.

Now, as I walk through a world rebuilt from ruins, I carry their legacy with me. I see hope in the laughter of children, in the quiet acts of kindness that stitch communities back together. I know the fight they endured was not in vain.

Their love was my first home, their strength my guiding light. And though the past will always be a part of me, I choose to live forward to honor them by living fully, with compassion and courage.

The journey continues, but I am no longer a child in hiding. I am a bearer of hope, a witness to resilience, and a reminder that even in the darkest times, light endures.