translated from Carol Brown Janeway...

translated from Carol Brown Janeway

My brother squatted forward a white blanket and laughed into the camera. That was during the war, my mother said, the last year of the war, at domestic circle Home was the East, and my mother had been born in the East. As my mother spoke the words "at home" she began to hoot as she so frequently did when the subject of my brother came up His name was Arnold, like my father's. Arnold was a happy child, said my mother, looking at the photograph. She didn't say any more, and I didn't say anything either, and expected at Arnold squatting on a white blanket