Klaus: How long were you in concentration camps?
(There are tears shed for the dozen friends he witnessed being summarily shot to death, but at the end of his account, he says with a smile)
Heinz: All together? I added it up once. I think eight-and-a-quarter years.
Klaus: What did you do when you got back?
Heinz: When I came home? I worked in the family store that my brother was running. My father had already died.
Klaus: Did you tell your brother or mother what happened in the camps?
Heinz: I never spoke with my mother about it. I could have talked to my father, but....
Klaus: Why not?
Heinz: Shame. My mother never said anything. It's all about patiently carrying one's burden.
Klaus: Shame about what?
Heinz: You mean my mother? Maybe it was from compassion, so she wouldn't offend me, or make it even harder on me. Not even one word from her.
Klaus: Today, it is hard to imagine that you survived these horrible years and came back and....
Heinz: Couldn't talk to anybody about it? Yes, I never spoke to anyone about it.
Klaus: Would you have liked to talk to someone?
Heinz: Maybe. Maybe with my father.
Klaus: And later, could you speak with others?