“The street resembled fairgrounds deserted in haste. There was a little of everything: suitcases, briefcases, bags, knives, dishes, banknotes, papers, faded portraits. All the things one planned to take along and finally left behind. They had ceased to matter.
Open rooms everywhere. Gaping doors and windows looked out into the void. It all belonged to everyone since it no longer belonged to anyone. It was there for the taking. An open tomb.”

Night (1960)

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Elie Wiesel155

writer, professor, political activist, Nobel Laureate, and … 1928–2016

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Shake gently.
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Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
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