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For more than two years, you hid in that secret annexe. At fourteen, life is to be celebrated but your yellow star prevented that. You lived in the shadows, scared. How many nights did you stay up, pouring your heart in your diary? how many long hours did you stare at the chestnut tree, from the attic window?
You missed your friends, the outside and the laughter but you were brave and your young spirit indomitable.
The nazis struck at night, taking you all to a certain death. But you are not dead, Anne, through your diary, you'll always live.

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