Like most writers, I wanted to be read. But I also wanted the rest of Canada to know what I and millions of other Jews like me had lived through duri… - Chava Rosenfarb

I think that books lacking such an introduction are like houses that one enters directly from the street, still wearing one's shoes and galoshes, still wrapped in the mood of outdoors. But an introduction to a volume of poetry functions like the anteroom to a house, a vestibule where one may shake off the burden of daily routine, where one may take off one's coat and boots, catch one's breath, pause for a minute to absorb the atmosphere of the dwelling one is about to enter.

I am not a card-carrying feminist, but the intellectual baggage that I bring to the act of writing is certainly coloured by my femininity.

"Where else have you been, tell me" she implores. "Poland," he answers. "That's where I was born, in a city called Warsaw." "Oh, Warsaw is really far! Did you like the city?" "In the past I did." "And today?" "Today the city seems alien to me." "Why? Well, of course, it's been a long time since you've been there." "I am still there." "What do you mean?" "My childhood is there, and my youth is there, and my dearest possessions are all there. Everything that mattered to me is there, and it is all gone."