She had so many names:
The name of her childhood, the name of her love, the name of her pain.
She never knew which one really belonged to her.
She said:
Each day my life chooses another name.
Maybe to live means
To be always other. Always foreign and unknown.

Background: a survivor: the name of her childhood, the surname of her dead husband, the nickname in the camps, the pet name when she returned to her old city, the Hebrew name in Israel...