I would say the title says it all, but it does not. There is so much to that, and so much more than that. The memories I have are very vivid, I have started writing them into a sort of story just to get them somewhere external, as the internal process of remembering is vastly overwhelming at times. Some of my memories are beautiful, mostly before the war. Many of them are visceral atrocity. My timeline is very clear in places, and very hazy in others. I remember years and people, places and events. I remember Berlin and the man I fell in love with there, secretly, out of sight from the rest of the world in his second floor apartment where nobody could tell us it was wrong. I remember bars, and my name, and what I looked like, and my family who I ran away from sometime around 1929-1930. I remember the camps, and the Officers, the Selektions and the trains. I do not remember being arrested, only being beaten. I remember experiments, and hauling rocks around a yard in the cold, and one particular Jewish prisoner-doctor who was very kind to me. I remember not speaking German very well because I was raised by a crazy woman out in the woods, and learning the language enough to know what people wanted, and orders barked at me, and things like "please" and "I love you". I remember fires and playing a violin, and the kind strangers who took me in when I was still free to wander the city I had run to. My entire life back then was largely spent running or hiding, even before the war. I remember having a very abusive mother who I ran away from, and I remember small village like gatherings of people like me, celebrations, a wedding, held outside of town where outsiders were not allowed unless they were brought. I remember the man I fell in love with, vividly. These are most of the good memories I have, as my life was not one of kind faces and warm, inviting places. He eventually joined SS. Our relationship and his job and rank caused him a lot of internal conflict. We lost track of each other for a while when he was in Poland, but found each other again when he was transferred to work at Auschwitz, where I was a prisoner. He rescued me from Auschwitz, by essentially messing with paperwork and getting a transfer approved in which I was "lost" due to a car crash. He hid me, for a while, in abandoned houses where he would often stay with me, thus the 'fugitive' part. Somebody, however, found out what we were doing, and we were both arrested in the house we were staying in and brought to Buchenwald. I underwent horrendous experiments in Buchenwald, and this is where my life ended in my early 20's. The are several similarities between myself now, and myself then. My family is from Norway and Sweden, but I also have German and Romani heritage. I still look very close to how I did then. I am still gay, and have actually found (completely on accident) the man I loved again in this life, and I love him still. Just about everyone I have spoken to who also has a WWII past life was a soldier or and officer of some sort, and I would love to talk to other people who were in a situation more like my own. I have been having terrible flashbacks to the camps and it is effecting me very deeply.