The Lost Wife
“Marta told us she saw fields of flowers across from the orchard where she worked, which lifted her spirit a bit, though we could not see anything within the walls of the ghetto. There were few birds, and one never saw the scampering of a squirrel or the wings of a butterfly. We had insects, of course, the mosquitoes, the fleas, and lice. The smarter creatures knew enough to stay away, while those who feasted on filth and squalor were more than happy to join us.
I carried on painting my postcards. Theresa still created her enviable copies of Old Master paintings, and my beloved Rita continued to make me laugh with the faces she made as she churned out her innocuous landscapes one by one.
“It’s too bad we can’t send secret messages through our work,” she whispered to me one day. I watched as she dipped her brush into a glass pot of watery blue paint and then drew a small Star of David in the center of the page where a pond would soon be.
“Think of how da Vinci would paint one thing, and... then cover it with an entirely different painting.MoreLess
I carried on painting my postcards. Theresa still created her enviable copies of Old Master paintings, and my beloved Rita continued to make me laugh with the faces she made as she churned out her innocuous landscapes one by one.
“It’s too bad we can’t send secret messages through our work,” she whispered to me one day. I watched as she dipped her brush into a glass pot of watery blue paint and then drew a small Star of David in the center of the page where a pond would soon be.
“Think of how da Vinci would paint one thing, and... then cover it with an entirely different painting.MoreLess
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