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dds with and who were not。 the only way to take my mind off it is to study； and ive been doing a lot of that lately。
yours； anne
friday； october 29；1943
my dearest kitty；
mr。 kleiman is out again； his stomach wont give him a moments peace。 he doesnt even know whether its stopped bleeding。 he came to tell us he wasnt feeling well
and was going home； and for the first time he seemed really down。
mr。 and mrs。 van d。 have had more raging battles。 the reason is simple： theyre broke。 they wanted to sell an overcoat and a suit of mr。 van d。 s； but were unable to find any buyers。 his prices were way too high。
some time ago mr。 kleiman was talking about a furrier he knows。 this gave mr。 van d。 the idea of selling his wifes fur coat。 its made of rabbit skin； and shes had it for seventeen years。 mrs。 van d。 got 325 guilders for it； an enormous amount。 she wanted to keep the money herself to buy new clothes after the war； and it took some doing before mr。 van d。 could make her understand that it was desperately needed to cover household expenses。
you cant imagine the screaming； shouting； stamping of feet and swearing that went on。
it was terrifying。 my family stood holding its breath at the bottom of the stairs； in case it might be necessary to drag them apart。 all the bickering； tears and nervous tension have bee such a stress and strain that i fall into my bed at night crying and thanking my lucky stars that i have half an hour to myself。
im doing fine； except ive got no appetite。 i keep hearing： 〃goodness； you look awful！〃 i must admit theyre doing their best to keep me in condition： theyre plying me with dextrose； cod…liver oil； brewers yeast and calcium。 my nerves often get the better of me； especially on sundays； thats when i really feel miserable。 the atmosphere is stifling； sluggish； leaden。 outside； you dont hear a single bird； and a deathly； oppressive silence hangs over the house and clings to me as if it were going to drag me into the deepest regions of the underworld。 at times like these； father； mother and margot dont matter to me in the least。 i wander from room to room； climb up and down the stairs and feel like a songbird whose wings have been ripped off and who keeps hurling itself against the bars of its dark cage。 〃let me out； where theres fresh air and laughter！〃 a voice within me cries。 i dont even bother to reply anymore； but lie down on the divan。 sleep makes the silence and the terrible fear go by more quickly； helps pass the time； since its impossible to kill it。
yours； anne
。d 。
NOVEMBER； 1943
wednesday； november 3； 1943
dearest kitty；
to take our minds off matters as well as to develop them； father ordered a catalog from a correspondence school。 margot pored through the thick brochure three times
without finding anything to her liking and within her budget。 father was easier to satisfy and decided to write and ask for a trial lesson in 〃elementary latin。〃 no sooner said than done。 the lesson arrived； margot set to work enthusiastically and decided to take the course； despite the expense。 its much too hard for me； though id really like to learn latin。
to give me a new project as well； father asked mr。 kleiman for a childrens bible so i could finally learn something about the new testament。
〃are you planning to give anne a bible for hanukkah？〃 margot asked； somewhat perturbed。
〃yes。 。 。 well； maybe st。 nicholas day would be a better occasion；〃 father replied。
jesus and hanukkah dont exactly go together。
since the vacuum cleaners broken； i have to take an old brush to the rug every night。
the windows closed； the lights on； the stoves burning； and there i am brushing away at the rug。 〃thats sure to be a problem；〃 i thought to myself the first time。 〃therere bound to be plaints。〃 i was right： mother got a headache from the thick clouds of dust whirling around the room； margots new latin dictionary was caked with dirt； and rim grumbled that the floor didnt look any different anyway。 small thanks for my pains。
weve decided that from now on the stove is going to be lit at seven…thirty on sunday mornings instead of five…thirty。 i think its risky。 what will the neighbors think of our smoking chimney？
its the same with the curtains。 ever since we first went into hiding； theyve been tacked firmly to the windows。 sometimes one of the ladies or gentlemen cant resist the urge to peek outside。 the result： a storm of reproaches。 the response： 〃oh； nobody will notice。〃 thats how every act of carelessness begins and ends。 no one will notice； no one will hear； no one will pay the least bit of attention。 easy to say； but is it true？
at the moment； the tempestuous quarrels have subsided； only dussel and the van daans are still at loggerheads。 when dussel is talking about mrs。 van d。； he invariably calls her that old bat〃 or 〃that stupid hag；〃 and conversely； mrs。 van d。 refers to our ever so learned gentleman as an 〃old maid〃 or a 〃touchy neurotic spinster； etc。
the pot calling the kettle black！
yours； anne
monday evening； november 8；1943
dearest kitty；
if you were to read all my letters in one sitting； youd be struck by the fact that they were written in a variety of moods。 it annoys me to be so dependent on the moods here in the annex； but im not the only one： were all subject to them。 if im engrossed in a book； i have to rearrange my thoughts before i can mingle with other people； because otherwise they might think i was strange。 as you can see； im currently in the middle of a depression。 i couldnt really tell you what set it off； but i think it stems from my cowardice； which confronts me at every turn。 this evening； when bep was still here； the doorbell rang long and loud。 i instantly turned white； my stomach churned； and my heart beat wildly …… and all because i was afraid。
at night in bed i see myself alone in a dungeon； without father and mother。 or im roaming the streets； or the annex is on fire； or they e in the middle of the night to take us away and i crawl under my bed in desperation。 i see everything as if it were actually taking place。 and to think it might all happen soon！
miep often says she envies us because