Processing with words. Or going trough the pain with words. There's something in place. The wounds are getting smaller, but permanent signs occur in the place."Hidden treasure". A diary yhat was sleeping in a box in the attic for eighty years. An authentic document!POEM BY ELLE WERNERS To our split bones the war sticksNow, after more than eighty yearsWe show up yo tell youthat our storiesmust be readThey don't describe secretsor sacred symbolismThey are like fragile creaturesat the edge of an abyssWith their feelers, they scanned the space at the timethat space also spans the time in which you(The Reader in the One and Twentieth Century)currently located* www.oorlogsverhalen.com ( W : WERNERS-JOHANNES THEODORUS )