I am whatever. I am a man doomed to die. I have no escape. I am a homosexual. I am a prisoner of the Nazis during world war two. I am very tired, usually hungry, and mostly weak. I don’t have much hope. The world has gone to shit and I’m in the middle of the asshole. I’m a plain looking man, I might have once been handsome, but I don’t really remember now. I’m gray, yes, now I’m gray, although I once may have been a different, or many different colors. I try not to think too much. I try to focus on the minimal things before me. When I eat, I am the eater, and I love it. When I chop stones, I am the stone chopper, and that is all, I make it my entire existence. It is the only way I keep from going mad.

I had been a nurse in Berlin before the Nazis came. I was homosexual, and proud of myself. I had come to terms with society’s views on my sexuality. And when Magnus Hirschfield came along with a movement to make my lifestyle legal in the open, I was thrilled. I signed the petition. I didn’t need or want to hide anymore. I signed the petition. The petition was a confession to a crime in the Nazi court. At the moment I thought I saw the first signs of freedom, I was tricked, and imprisoned.

So now I chop stones. With the Jews. With death all around. Maybe I used to believe some of the propaganda, the sentiments of my parents and grandparents. But not anymore. All the Jews did was sign a petition by being born. And that petition was a confession. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m cold. And I’m lonely. I may be able to understand and get over my differences with the other prisoners, but the understanding isn’t necessarily reciprocal. So I’m a leper among lepers.

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