″‘Hide them. Keep them safe for me,’ I said, putting my hands on top of his. ‘I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t want them to be destroyed. There’s so much of me, of all of us, in these drawings.‘”
“I shut the bathroom door and caught sight of my face in the mirror. I had no idea how quickly it was to change, to fade. If I had, I would have stared at my reflection, memorizing it. It was the last time I would look into a real mirror for more than a decade.”
“I closed my eyes and tried to think of something, anything, to calm myself. I pictured my sketchbook. I felt my hands stir. Images, like celluloid frames, rolled through my mind.”
″‘Do you understand?’ My father looked at Andrius, hesitant. ‘You can help me find you,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll know it’s you…just like you know Munch. But you must be very careful.‘”
“I clung to my rusted dreams during the times of silence. It was at gunpoint that I fell into every hope and allowed myself to wish from the deepest part of my heart. Komorov thought he was torturing us. But we were escaping into a stillness within ourselves. We found strength here.”
“It is my greatest hope that the pages in this jar stir your deepest well of human compassion. I hope they prompt you to do something, to tell someone. Only then can we ensure that this kind of evil is never allowed to repeat itself.”