Entry 6, 10: 08,

when we first landed in Poland, got off the plane with a hundred other young teenage Israeli’s, got onto the trolley and walked into the airport, I distinctly felt a tinge of hate. Hundreds of Jewish people walk into the airport, hand the Polish worker their passport, and with obvious intention that passport control officer knows the exact reason why we're here. He looked uneasy and possibly guilty, I thought at the time, but looking back now, a day later, playing it over in my head, I don't see guilt, but rather systematic boredom of repetitive motions. His eyes looking over reach passport, scanning it, comparing it to the live face in front of him, his eyes shifting slightly, his head wavering. He knows the exact reason why we're here, why there's a growing crowd of throbbing teenagers pushing their way through the front door, utterances of Hebrew hovering above their heads. He knows we're not here for happiness or a joyous vacation at the beginning of the school year, because he knows the history behind this land 60 years prior. When we hand him our passports and he reads Naftali Greenberg, Chana Wiseman, Ann Milner, Guy Shaplinsky, when he scans each Jewish name over and over from behind his glass protection, he knows we're here in remembrance. This is the exact reason why when we make eye contact I don't think, "what a nice looking man," I think what does he know? How does he feel about us? What involvement did his family have? I can't help but not smile when I see his face, can't help from staring, take my passport back without saying thank you. I’ve laid the guilt of 6 million Jews onto the first Polish worker I see, fully knowing he had absolutely nothing to do with it, but looking into his eyes I see 6 million others.

-Netanya Bushewsky