Less than fifteen minutes later the shooting started again. Mrs. van D. sprang out of bed
and went downstairs to Dussel's room to seek the comfort she was unable to find with her spouse.
Dussel welcomed her with the words “Come into my bed, my child!”
We burst into peals of laughter, and the roar of the guns bothered us no more; our fears had all been swept away. Yours, Anne
SUNDAY, JUNE 13, 1943
Dearest Kitty, The poem Father composed for my birthday is too nice to keep to myself.
Since Pim writes his verses only in German, Margot volunteered to translate it into Dutch.
See for yourself whether Margot hasn't done herself proud.
It begins with the usual summary of the year's events and then continues: As youngest among us, but small no more,
Your life can be trying, for we have the chore Of becoming your teachers, a terrible bore.
“We've got experience! Take it from me!” “We've done this all before, you see.
We know the ropes, we know the same.Since time immemorial, always the same.
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