The long two-story building flanking the Gate stands gaunt and empty. At Auschwitz-Birkenau there is no conceivable Borowski research to be done nor any real reason to remain. So when Ben Lama inquires amiably how his work is progressing, he can only say that something feels unfinished. This evening that big woman “from the other side” appears again, and this time Olin stands nearby and translates her rude dialect into English. This woman does not associate with Olin’s coven of educated Poles (nor, he feels sure, would she be welcome) and takes no part in the mess hall conversations, bringing her own rough food in a sack and devouring it without interest on a concrete bench out in the courtyard. A local peasant, Rebecca’s friend Nadia decides, nodding her head with a tolerant smile and a cold eye of unabashed intolerance. Granite-faced, eyes aimed straight at the wall behind their heads, the woman forces out her words between hard pauses.
