This is the last time I’m going to try and tell you this story.

full chapter

1993.

FIVE YEARS OLD. Stęszew.

Picture this: you are walking. In your sandals and socks, wearing your shorts that show off scraped knees, your striped t-shirt and a baseball cap that protects your eyes from the bright July sun and your identity from anyone inquiring.

You’re kicking the gravel, making dust rise around you until it makes you cough. There’s …