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His memoir called "Human Traces". Part 3. Spring of freedom. It was in We were in Russia nearly two years, though it seemed like a lifetime. Our whole family was waiting and ready to continue with the flight further to the south. Born free; like an Albatross that goes to stay over the clear blue waters most of its life. Humans too, always yearn and need to be free.
Our family, with only a handful of belongings, we said their last farewell to our new found neighbours and friends, to continue on along our unknown trail of hunger and cold, along our destiny.
We traveled in the opposite direction of the birds migrating to Europe at that time of the year. When I saw all the birds flying north, it crossed my mind that the white and black storks would be flying to Poland, without realizing that a war was raging there and that the human traces were being washed away in their own blood by the atrocities of human greed. The early spring of in Kirghizstan was like a promise of a new life, not only for our family, but also for over a quarter of a million other Polish people uprooted by the brutal force of armed thieving, red Russian terrorists from their homes.
Even the gentle warmth of April sunshine, which only just about managed to thaw out some ice here and there, was a most welcome sign to both man and beast. Different events were taking place. They happened so fast that I could not remember their order or the names of different places that we had passed through.
