Oh, Merlin, Merlin, you have no human father.

It was a false devil who came to me.

You're listening to my mother, reading the legend of King Arthur for my boys.

It was the first time I had ever heard my mother's voice.

She was a dramatic, natural storyteller.

Lifting her veil to show her pale, drawn face.

And I wonder if she learned this skill

during a childhood of air raids, explosions,

and the loss of her mother

when her only solace was found in fairy tales.

Where is the ancient magic that might rescue me?

Austilities will end at one minute after midnight, Tuesday, the 8th of May.

The end of World War II, celebrated by most of the world,

God save the king.

Was no rescue for my mom.

Instead, three months after the surrender was signed,

she ended up in a Kindaheim, or children's home.

It looks pretty much the same, I think.

Can you imagine like 40 kids stuffed in there?

And for Stephanie and me, the house, sitting up on a rise overlooking a green Bavarian Valley,

is legendary.

Everybody was starving.

...