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(Pdf book, 38 pages)
Kiev, 1923 Winter Central Train Station Doctor Otto Wertheim lit up a twisted, wrinkled cigarette. He had spent 30 hours on trains on his way to poor Ukraine from rich Germany. He looked at the crumpled cigarette with pensive eyes, after five long years in medical school deprived of basic necessities, now he could splurge on buying entire packs of cigarettes. One a day as a medical student had been his quota. He had landed a good job as a Doctor at the main National Hospital of Kiev, capital of Ukraine, his wife and two small children, still in Germany, would be joining him soon, two more weeks and they all would be together again.
He was only 25 years old but felt 45, medical school and a marriage with children had taken a toll on him, however, he felt rejuvenated under the cold wind smoothly beating his three days unshaven face as he briskly walked away from the train looking for the very welcomed, warm underground shelter with old stone and brick steps connecting, like fence links, the main arteries of Kiev. He puffed heavily on the now full of life cigarette, the bluish smoke coming out of it embracing, like a ballerina a polished dance floor, the frigid, cold air floating over the semi desolated, taciturn and quiet train station ! It was four o' clock on January the first, 1923, the New Year's celebration dampened by years of war, the Ukranian front had been active for several years, Ukranian families were still mourning their dead ones. As he was about to enter the foggy, still enchanting and attractive entrance to the underground structure, he, with no idea where it was coming from, clearly heard a soft cry from what had to be a very small child somewhere in the surroundings, the continuous sobs led him to some frozen bushes - as frozen as mountain peaks - a few meters from the entrance of the coveted underground entrance !! Otto Wertheim, alarmed but intrigued, quickly walked behind the gelid bushes, his dilated, deep blue eyes were not lying: a very small, helpless child, perhaps only a week old, was innocently lying in a dirty basket covered with flimsy, snow blanketed blankets !!
Rushing towards the fragile, almost frozen to death child, he murmured to himself: many people before me have heard the painful, pitiful sobs of this poor child but nobody has done anything about it !! death is as common as trash !! this is obviously a very cruel world !!
With great anxiety in his soul, he impatiently picked up the child from the worn out, cold basket !! He quickly got rid of the several spots of snow all over the skinny, trembling, bluish body of the on purpose forgotten child, he placed the child under his warm coat, he murmured to himself: it is a girl and I do not have one, at least not yet !! I am taking this abandoned poor girl with me, I always liked the Russian name Anastasya !! Anastasya Wertheim, another heir in my beloved family !! she has stopped crying, she is feeling the warmth of my coat, perhaps also the warmth of my heart !!
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