Everyone I know – almost – is shell-shocked in some way.  Somehow the past seems to be remembered and  relived.  Today I had a facial to spoil myself, but she spent the whole time talking about  anti-semitism and the pogrom she endured when she left Tunisia.  Yesterday it was a neighbor who reminded me of her biography about holocaust childhood in Holland.  And last week it was the Moslem hairdresser talking about how we have to learn to get over the past.  Me, I have a feeling I rushed to publish my book of holocaust poems because I’m also trying to fit this war into history.