- Amsterdam, The Netherlands, 1958, Jewish old age home
- NYC, 1954, Hasidic wedding
I love the old people. They know so many stories, you don't need to open a history book.
I remember an old lady in Krakow who gave the sign to knife me because she thought i was German and she didn't want me to take photos of workers in the streets.
I calmed her down, telling her i was French. Her face became sunny. She didn't speak French or English but we have a conversation: her speaking Polish and me English. She hated Germans and Russians but she loved the French. I tried to understand what she was telling. I recognized some words.
The only thing i remember: during the WWII, there was no school and she spent her day at the kino (movie theater). We shared a part of history without understanding each other. She talked with passion and her big heart. I made her day and she made mine. Maybe she was Jewish. She brought her secret with her.
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