Eighty years ago, the Germans exterminated my village.
Today, we dig up the streets and pull out the underpavement.
It is made from the gravestones of my ancestors.
The Germans had ordered the cemeteries to be destroyed.
But now, we are reclaiming the stones.
Buried under the streets.
Pavestones for paths through the farms.
Grinding stones for plows and knives.
They all have writing on them.
We wash the stones, and rub shaving cream on them.
The white foam makes it easier to read the letters.
Their names are slowly revealed, and we kneel, and we pray for their souls.