Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing
against a white stone....
Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly ’way up high.
It went away I’m sure
because it wished
to kiss the world good-bye.
For seven weeks I’ve lived in here
Penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found what I love here.
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut branches in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don’t live in here, in the ghetto.
Written by Pavel Friedman, June 4, 1942
Deported to the Terezin Concentration Camp on April 26, 1942.
Died in Aushchwitz on Sept. 29, 1944.
How it will work -
Two Dresses Studio
1554 - 20 Avenue South
Lethbridge, AB T1K1E9
Deadline - yet to be decided
•Glitter and all glitter-related products should not be used.
•Food products (cereal, macaroni, candy, marshmallows or other perishables) also should not be used.