came today but the departure was delayed again. We will leave tomorrow.
We got an order that all must embark. The sick—there are many of them—will use a great Red Cross ship. The guards took our blankets and gave us backpacks.
July 7
Today it is exactly 6 months since we landed on Asinara, and we are embarking on a journey to France. The ship is huge and is called the Seine.
Goodbye, Ass Isle. You hosted us for six months and did us much good but much more bad. Well, we swore at you a good deal, longing for the day when we would leave you. We were convinced we will be free people, but we are heading to be prisoners again. How will we do there?
The anchor is raised. I look back to say goodbye to our comrades beyond the white wall under the green grass. You poor ones. This is where you found the peace that everyone was looking forward to so much. Sleep tight. The tide will tell you about your distant homeland, and we will bring your greetings to it.
We are leaving the bay slowly. The isle is getting smaller. The last contours disappear in an hour.
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