I hear it even in my sleep, the clink, clink, clink of what does not quite sound like falling bits of metal.

I work in a room full of shoes, and wonder after so many days why so many people feel like they do not need them.

The clink, clink, clink bothers me, rising and falling from a room beyond mine.

I have tried to look in there a few times but rough hands haul me back.

I do not know anyone who actually works in that room only people who work in rooms like mine, collecting items that people no longer seem to need, like hats and shirts and ties and pants.

And those who work in those rooms also hear these clinks and also wonder what it is that sounds like metal but is not.

We all try to picture articles of collected clothing that would make such a sound, and how much of this there must be to go on and on like it does.

Clink, clink, clink.

Even in my dreams.


Because some professional actors said they could not use the work unless they were published; I have finally published these monologues and others -- and these are available at This collection includes other material not originally available on this site -- slightly over 40 monologues.
Holocaust Monologues: the real and the unreal

Holocaust monologues

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