As I lie on this cold, hard, wooden bunk in this Goddam place known as the Dachau concentration camp, I wonder is it the end for me?
I think I am about to die.
I look up to the roof, and through an open hole I see a glimmer of hope in the opalescent predawn light. The shards came streaking in as the sun begins to rise and glimpses through the passing clouds. Another day dawns.