He started telling me about a part in his life which he only had shared with a few people before. He shared a beautiful memory about his friend whom he had known for 30 years. Even though his memory was beautiful and made me relate to happiness, he told me to be careful when I choose whom I should trust.
A pause began and so I waited. When he was ready, he told me about the terrible journey to the concentration camp. He told me about the terrible conditions they were forced to live in. He told me about people closing their eyes for the last time around him, but it was not because they were done living, but because of the conditions and people forcing them to cut off the band of life. He also told me about elder men falling to the ground because of the lack of water and food right under the bright sun, and about the fact that they never got back up again.
He told me about a white line, which separated the guards from the captives. He was one of the captives. Each and every day he tried to take small walks among the 3000 other captives. It is one moment during one of his walks that makes me understand his wish for me to be careful about whom I choose to trust.
This friend that he told me about in the beginning was a friend that he hadn’t seen since before the camp, but it was during one of his walks that he saw him again. The feeling of joy and relief that you get by seeing someone so close to your heart, are not the feelings that he got to go through. And it was all because of the white line.
His so-called “best friend” asked what the hell he was doing there, but he couldn’t say anything else than “If you don’t know, then how should I?”
That was the end, he and his best friend since 30 years never spoke after that.
The white lines showed the areas that the captives were allowed to move within, meaning that the men on the other side of the white line weren’t captives they were guards.
He didn’t know if he would survive the camp or not, he didn’t know if he would get to meet his children or wife ever again. He didn’t even know if he would ever see his best friend again, but now that he had, he knew that this man was one of many to keep him from seeing his family.
The white line came to separate the inseparable. The last time they ever spoke was on different sides of that white line.