This is a page on the site from where I stole the Grin Reaper.
It's chilling. Really chilling.
It's a bit more comforting- yet a bit more human and a bit more frightening- if you imagine Eddie Izzard reading it.
Some of the most affecting prose I've encountered in years, though.
It's chilling. Really chilling.
It's a bit more comforting- yet a bit more human and a bit more frightening- if you imagine Eddie Izzard reading it.
Some of the most affecting prose I've encountered in years, though.
It's a bit of a memoir piece by one of the folks who liberated Bergen-Belsen.
Synopsis:
the fellows who liberated Bergen-Belsen had no idea what the hell they were dealing with. insert genuinely horrifying imagery here.
Somebody @ the Red Cross threw into the latest aid package a bunch of lipstick.
The women who'd been interned in the camp reacted to this immediately- they put on lipstick. They traded for colors that suited them best. They clutched it tightly on their way out of this life. &c, &c, &c.
The little story presented lipstick as the way these people were brought back into the social discourse of humanity, lipstick as the means by which people acquired humanity again after being so denigrated so long and so thoroughly.
Something about this story just brought a smile to my face- even though it was sad as all hell, really.