The moments of lucidity were rarer and rarer, but when they came, he regaled me with tales of swallowed teeth, basement brawls, and AIDS tests administered at midnight in ramshackle midtown health ...  [+]

I am a doll.

I was born sixty years ago at Görlitz in Germany, in a hut in Stalag VIII-A.

I am the one for whom a Belgian prisoner of war, number 15825, opened his clenched fists and to whom ...  [+]