One of my school friend--I went to a private school for girls--one of the girls from my school was in ghetto as well, with her mother. And she became very, very ill, and they wanted to deport her. All of us who were her friends, from our meager portions decided to take a little bit and get it together and bring to her every day. You can't imagine the value of food at those days, to give away. I had a glove, somehow, somewhere, in ghetto, and we were freezing. So the glove was being worn by everybody, and my friend, by my friends. We were sharing the one glove, so one hand for few minutes was getting out of the numbness. I don't know who the glove really belonged to but I was given it, and we shared this glove. And I remember this glove. And when I met one of the girls after the war in England, she said to me, "Blanka, do you remember your glove?" "Yes, I remember the glove."