I used to gaze for hours in the mirror,
To look for the face I knew in the restful skin.
You said:
Life looks at itself in your gaze.
I whispered: also death.
I'll never be the same.
Even when you go to sleep in a night like all others
You never wake up the same. Never.

Background: a conversation between my mother and a friend. The night that wasn't like all others alludes, of course, to the camps.