The Lies of Others

True Old stuff story told me today: A friend of his mother's, from Belgium, that she hadn't seen since they were children..they are having tea. The gentleman - M - his mother is Jewish-Italian, the father was German Italian. Anyway, they have a lovely chateau in Belgium. COVID was hard on M but he loves the chateau: the history, the sense of honour, of family.

A mirror fell of the wall, a family heirloom during COVID. And behind the mirror shards? Old stuff, letters photographs. An entire history no one knew about. His grandfather? A major Nazi. Thank you letters from Hitler, the works. 

All of the heirlooms? Mostly looted. All of it. Probably even the Chateau. His entire sense of self, of knowing who he thought he was? Gone.

Everything past a certain age is being inventoried and will be run through restitution databases. Weirdly, I say this says he know exactly who HE is...he's doing the honourable, the right thing. But that betrayal, the layering of lies. Who knew? How much did that secret weigh? How do you hide in plain sight? Who pays the price for these betrayals, these cruelties? At what point can the monster become humane? The beast in the desert more than a tragic punch line?