Denise Repper — Auschwitz, 1943
She was only seventeen months old. She hadn’t yet spoken full sentences. She hadn’t learned how to skip, say “I love you,” or pick wildflowers on a summer day. Her world was still gentle—soft blankets, lullabies, warm embraces. But even that was taken from her.
Denise Repper was deported to Auschwitz. Too small to walk the platform by herself. Too young to understand fear. And there, in the gas chambers, her life was stolen before it ever began.
She was not a number. She was a child.
Remember her name. Say it aloud. Because Denise mattered.
{ image gnarated by AI }
