Bullenhuser Damm Memorial in my school

  Everything in my house has its own story. It may be a carpet, a lamp, a curtain, a candle, a coin. Things may be  around but it is as if they want to  talk and I listen to them. Whatever they say it's always remarkable and memories fill the air I breath. Then it all comes out from the pen, pencil I have in my hand  and I must  write or say it loudly. Is that the poet in me or the little girl who  never rode her bike to school because she wasn't allowed to? I don't know. Anyway  for  more than two decades twenty little  faces suffering for brutal medical experiments were  kept  silently in my heart. While in Stafford, in 2008 I began writing My Spoon River, or better my Bullenhuser Damm, a collection of  poems about the twenty children. It happened  every now and then. I would write a poem and cry until I had no more tears. I wrote about eight or nine poems while in England. When I came back to Messina I put my orange fancy notebook away. It's a notebook bought in Harrods because whenever I spend time in London I always spend money there!. Actually I had to buy the notebook because I had left  the one I had brought from Italy on the train.  A cardbord then would ask me day after day to do something for the children. Then came the day I wrote a request to the headmaster for a Bullenhuser Damm celebration.  What I had in mind was a Memorial which would last half an hour. I wanted students to bring stones and butterflies  in the beloved memory of the twenty children and I wanted  teachers to lit candles. Two students would read  The butterfly by Pavel Friedmann  in English and in Italian. That was it.
What happened instead still  surprises me. preparing the event and the students took two months. We made a presentation in English and now kids are making videos. One was already posted on youtube, The others are following.