Lucia Laragione: A Piece of Faded Yellow Paper. Lucia Laragione. Ignacio, my grandson, looks baffled at a yellow piece of paper, faded by time, that I have just . View the profiles of people named Lucia Laragione. Join Facebook to connect with Lucia Laragione and others you may know. Facebook gives people the. Phone, Suggest a phone number lucia laragione. 7 likes. Public Figure. lucia laragione. Posts about lucia laragione. There are no stories available. About.

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Lucia Laragione Books – Biography and List of Works – Author of ‘Amores Que Matan’

With a determined gesture he extended before the officer a yellow paper that bore the coat of arms of the Royal House of Sweden. On January 17th he was seen for the last larqgione when entering the Headquarters of what was then the Union Of Soviet Socialist Republics. He wore a long blue overcoat and his blonde straight hair was combed back form his forehead.

Commandant Horthy, head of the Hungarian government, asked the Russians for a truce. A that time I was thirteen. The Russians, who, allied with England, France and the U.

The Russians, who made him a prisoner, maintain that the Swedish diplomat died in prison in During the following months, I worked by his side at the Embassy of Sweden, a neutral country during the war. And I cannot but think of the irony of destiny. Contact Argentina info irwf. But, suddenly, we fell sharply from the crest of the wave and our peaceful life changed for ever. Not only because the two historical centers, Laraagione and Pest are devided by the Danube river, but also because the whole capital larragione Hungary abounds with fountains and thermal baths.


Lucia Laragione: A Piece of Faded Yellow Paper « The International Raoul Wallenberg Foundation

Employed as an office boy, I myself distributed among my brethren those yellow papers that meant the difference between living and dying. More than fifty years have passed and I cannot forget the luci of that brave and caring man, climbing on the roofs of the cattle trains, giving out with full hands the lcuia documents.

II The sound of water is the music that accompanied my childhood. We hug each other and then, to my absolute surprise, he whispers in my ears the following words: We laugh for quite a while and then we go together to blow out the candles that consecrate his happy and vital thirteen years of age.

However, he was not able to save himself.

The most intense lucja distant memories of Budapest, the city of my birth, are associated with water. Ignacio looks once more at the paper he is holding in his hands and tells me that he is going to keep it carefully and that when the son that he expects have is thirteen, he will bequeath it to himtogether with my story. I looked at the person who had spoken: We were already in the station platform, when one of the huge dogs that an officer was holding threw itself against me.

The man who held the menacing beast, pulled its leash and withheld it. I remember that, despite everything, I went on hearing the sound of water, the music of Budapest, and that kept my hope alive. Kucia is thought that those who captured him suspected that he was luia spy in the service of the United States, or maybe they suspected him because of his contacts with the Germans.


Amores Que Matan (English, Spanish, Paperback)

I never really found out why the Germans, who stopped at nothing, showed such respect for seals and documents. Finally, on a day when the April sun was beginning to show itself, we were violently driven from the ghetto and were dragged to the East Railway Station. That winter was a harsh one and we were crowded in dark, miserable rooms under the constant menace that any gesture would cost us our lives.

Inwhen the Nazis surrendered and the Russians finally entered Budapest, Wallenberg had succeeded in rescuing from the hands of the victimizers more than a hundred thousand Jews. Beside me walked a woman with a baby in her arms. Ignacio, my grandson, looks baffled at a yellow piece of paper, faded by time, that I have just put in his hands. Then the fateful year of arrived.

I tell him that it is part of his birthday present and he smiles, thinking that I am kidding. During the following years, in spite of the war, I continued going to school and leading a life which, even with fear and hardships of every kind, seemed normal. Soon, Janos, my father, and Bartha, my mother, understood that, apart from the calamities of war, there was for us a great additional menace: The soldiers laughed at my panic. I was so afraid!

This article was published by Swedish Press magazine.

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