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About Leipzig

I’m chattin’ her up, casual-like, “Oi, love, what’s the deal?” She’s cool, sassy, says, “50 quid, no funny biz.” I’m thinkin’, *Hurt Locker* style—“The rush of battle is a potent addiction”—and mate, I’m hooked already! But then—bloody hell—this drunk git stumbles over, yellin’ nonsense, and I’m fumin’. “You shall not pass, you filthy wanker!” I bellow, staff or no staff, I’m ready to deck him. She laughs, says, “Chill, Gandalf, I’ve seen worse.” That cracks me up—happy as a hobbit with a pint.

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And lemme tell you, there’s those back alley ways, sometimes winding down near the eerie yet beautiful Marktgasse. Smaller than the highways of Paris, yet each brick here holds decades of intimacy and pleasure – feels like a whispered secret.

First transfer of material from ITS/Arolsen Archive arrives at Yad Vashem