I tried to find a picture of Kelly online, but could not. She briefly pursued an acting career in the 2000s, but must have been careful to cover her tracks; she had a cat-like ability to be very private.

The best way I can describe her is that she looks like Kim Basinger, including the golden locks and fair skin. But I will share a portrait of her father, painted by Schnabel, because it is nice to have a cover picture.

Kelly’s father died last year, he was 83. My mother will be 90 this spring, and she was orphaned at the age of 8 when my grandparents were taken to Auschwitz in 1942. I know nothing about them, and recently my mother asked me to collect what letters she has and keep it so I can look into it.

There was definitely a connection between me and Kelly, both our names mean “warrior” and she trusted me more than most people, at that time I did not value or understand trust as I have a long history of abuse and denial.

Is it a race or a religion? I will share my DNA results with you, dear reader (if you have made it this far, you deserve some facts).

European 97%: Northern Italy 44%, Southern Italy 38%, France 15%, Middle East 3%!

I am definitely a child of the Roman Empire, I always knew that.

(Next time more family paintings, but one per article is enough.)

I read this story by Primo Levy in the “Abecedarian” of Auschwitz, a prisoner is thirsty and tries to grab an icicle through the window of his cell, immediately a guard grabs his hands, the prisoner asks “Why?” and the guard answers “There is no why here”, that pretty much sums it up.

How does it feel to have your roots hacked off 23 years before you were born?

First you know nothing about your family and you go through life wondering why you were born, there is no attachment to any nation or faith, you have to fake it till you make it, you are a spy, an imposter.

You can never see yourself through the eyes of another, like Dracula you stand in front of the mirror and see only a fog.

You can shave your head and integrate into the skinhead culture, or you can let your hair grow and wear silk and walk the runway, you can smoke weed in Beverly Hills or hitchhike in Byron Bay, it makes no difference.

In “Pimp,” Iceberg Slim says he had the most luxurious life but would wear his socks in fear.

What a striking image.

Not the fear of being beaten up, not the fear of being arrested, but the fear of running amok, the fear of losing your soul.

When you are born guilty, you look for a reason, out of reason you might do something that can be held against you, at least you know why.

There was no romantic connection between me and Kelly, and being good-looking was the best we had, drifting through the days like lost siblings, unable to say what was in our hearts.

The Void was our connection, the Void of being born unattached, the emptiness of 3%, a gift from God or a death sentence.