In those dark times, when fear knocked on doors before army boots, injustice did not always arrive wearing blunt Nazi uniforms. Sometimes it came with familiar faces, a recognizable accent, and a false promise of survival.

Jews were persecuted not for any crime, but simply for being who they were.

They were driven into the narrowest corners of cities, carrying their lives in small suitcases and their memories in torn pockets, searching for any hand that might reach out to them in the darkness.