Hanna Schulz caused her family lots of worries. She surely could have already married a distinguished man, such as an SS Officer, with her peerless beauty.

Her pale skin looked like polishedmarble, her lips always seemed to be covered in a light layer of honey, and her eyes, oh my. They were greenish-blue and sparkled like the way the ocean does when the sun hits it just fromt the right angle.

The reason 19-year-old Hanna was the problem child in the family was that she had a mind of her own.

The only thing she ever said about these accusations herself was one day, when she was poking in her mashed potatoes, and muttered 'I hate being told what to do' without looking up. That was when she had to join the 'Hitler youh'.

One morning, she came into the kitchen looking changed.

'Hanna, what have you done to your hair!', her mother shouted.

Her ivory blonde hair, that once almost reached her butt, was now shoulder length.

'I wanted to do this for a really long time, Mama!', she insisted.

'But don't you know that long hair attracts men?'

Hanna huffed, ridiculing her mom's statement. 'It only attracted food when I was eating. Why does it bother you, anyway? It's my hair!'

'Don't listen to her', said her father, peeking over the newspaper 'This attitude is the reason your mom ended up with someone like me.'

Hannas mom clicked her tongue offendedly and slapped him with a towel. Though she couldn't help but smile about his joke.

And her father smiled back at her in such a gentle manner that anyone could tell he meant to say 'I love you'. It sounds cheesy, but through all their everyday struggles, they were still in love.

He tilted his gentle smile toward his daughter and said 'I like your new hairstyle'.

'Thank you.', Hanna answered.

'So you wanna be a hairdresser now or what?', asked her mom.

'No!', Hanna defended herself, as if her mom just indirectly accused her of having an inconsistent mind. 'I still want to be a photographer.'

'You know we can't afford a camera.', her mom said.

Hanna lowered her head, she knew she was right.

'Well', said her father, 'We'll see about that.'

The bright smile that arose on Hanna's face made him smile aswell.

'Hanna', he said, 'I'm gonna let you know about your Christmas present earlier this year, because it needs some preparation. You'll be going to a photography internship in Paris!'

'Rolf, why didn't you tell me about this?', her mother shouted; but Hanna already flung her arms around his neck, thanking him.

Hanna was packing in her room when there was a knock on the door. It was her father, Rolf. He slowly came walking in, with his hands in his pockets.

'Are you happy?', he asked.

'Yes, very.', Hanna said, smiling calmly.

'That's good.' He sat down on her bed, watching her pack for a moment.

'You know', he continued, 'I didn't just do this for the sake of your career.'

Hanna looked up at him, becoming clairaudient.

'I also wanted you to learn to become more responsible and find out what you really want. Meet some new people. You won't be able to get away from the Nazis, though, I fear.'

'I know.'

'But I also did it for your mom. She has to learn to let go. You're nineteen. You're not going to stay with us forever.'

Her parents bid Hanna farewell at the train station, that was covered in snow, which was untypical for December. Usually, it didn't snow until the end of january.

'Do you have the paper that has René DuPuis' address on it?' asked Rolf.

'Of course! Why would I forget the most important thing?'

Rolf pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. 'Because,'. he said, holding it up in front of her 'You're really forgetful.'

Hanna was a bit embarassed that she actually forgot it, but also grateful that her father was that aware of her weakness. Now she knew what he meant when he said she had to learn to become more responsible; and it worried her a bit.

Wrapped up in a coat and a wooly scarf, she slept through most of the ride. She didn't even notice the Nazis searching the train before they could cross the border. Only one time a train conductor woke her up to check her ticket, and then again to remind her of getting off the train. Little, clumsy Hanna, how are you going to handle living all by yourself?

The short and bulky photographer René DuPuis didn't exactly greet her heartily in his little studio in the streets of Paris; and Hanna was really awkward, especially when she was speaking french.

He gave her a short tour of the studio, with all the cameras and lighting equipment and the dark room. Seeing all of this really excited her.

She would start working the next morning and had a little room for herself. It was bleak and only had a bed and a chest of drawers, aswell as one green plant. For some reason, she felt more welcomed by the plant than by René.

'Today,' said René with a full mouth at the breakfast table the next morning 'I want to get an impression of your sense in scene and atmosphere.'

They sat counterpart at the ends of a long, wooden table. René DuPuis usually lived alone, and you could feel that somehow.

He took a sip of his coffee. 'After breakfast, you're going to go out and take some pictures. While we're preparing and eating lunch, the pictures are going to develop and then afterwards, we can have a look at them and I'll tell you what I think. What do you say?'

Hanna's jaw dropped. She didn't expect that she would already take pictures herself on the first day.

For the first time, René smiled and revealed a row of crooked teeth. 'Did you think you were only going to watch me and get me coffee? I want you to learn something here.'

And to be honest, that's all she could ask for. Maybe she was wrong and René was actually going to be a great mentor that gave her just enough freedom.

He showed her how to handle a Krauss Rollette camera and she went out taking pictures for hours of Paris and its people and it was the most fun she had in a long time.

When René looked at her pictures, he furrowed his brow and didn't say much, although Hanna expected and hoped for lots of constructive criticism. He sometimes asked where she took a certain picture, without movin his gaze from it, and then made a some sort of sound when she told him.

She wasn't sure what to think of that.

The next days, he sometimes had her assist him, then go take some pictures herself and she also learned how to develop photos. Of course, the days didn't go by without some mishaps. She exposed a couple of films and spilled chemicals in the dark room, which made him huff angrily, but not really complain.

René didn't say a lot in general.

One day, during their lunch break, there was a heavy knock on the front door of the studio.

'We're closed!', René yelled from the back room.

An authorical voice yelled back in German: 'Öffnen Sie sofort die Tür, Herr DuPuis! (Open the door right now, Mr. Dupuis)'

René suddenly stopped chewing his baguette and looked at Hanna, frightened.

'Your acquainances?' he asked.

Hanna shook her head.

René walked to the front door to see Major Hellstrom fake-grinning at him from outside the glass door. He opened, and the major started talking to him in French: 'Hello, Sir, do you have some time to talk?'

'About what?', René asked curiously.

'I heard you recently had someone move into your house?!'

'Someone else lives here, yes. Her name is Hanna.'

'Who exactly is Anna?' asked Major Hellstrom, misinterpreting his French accent.

'She does an internship here. On photography.'

'You didn't register any roommates, Monsieur DuPuis, why is that?', he said seriously.

René blurted out a short laugh.

'She's not my roommate. She just sleeps here for a while, due to her internship, that is all.'

'Anyone who lives with you, Monsieur DuPuis, must be registered. Are you hiding anyone else?'

'No.' he said confused.

'May I convince myself of that?' asked Major Hellstrom, and without waiting for an answer, he walked into his studio, looking around curiously at the photo prints on the wall.

He walked slowly, with his hands behind his back. His every step could be heard clearly, even in the backroom, where Hanna was.

'Nice photographies.' he said.

'Thank you.'

'Is this Anna you were talking about here today?'

'Yes.'

'Then go take her.'

'Yes.'

René was about to go to the back room to take Hanna, but she was already coming out.

'Is anything wrong?', she asked.

Apparently, Major Hellstrom was really enchanted to see this pretty girl.

'Not at all', he said, took her hand and kissed it. 'I must have been deceived. I heard Monsier DuPuis was illegally hiding people. But I guess you're just aquaintances, right?'

Both, René and Hanna nodded.

'However, may I see your papers?'

'Of course', she said and went to take them.

The two men were now alone.

'You look a bit jewish, Monsieur DuPuis.' said the major, looking down upon the short Frenchman. 'Are you?'

'Me? Of course not!', he said and seemed to get a bit nervous.

Hanna came back with her papers and Major Hellstrom took a look at it. 'Hanna Schulz', he said, mostly to himself, and started reading. After inspecting the papers for a while, he read: 'Catholic Christian.' and added 'Wonderful.'

'Well', he said 'I guess my business is finished here. Thank you for your time.'

And with that, he left.

A few days later, Hanna looked at one of Renés photos and tried to impress him by interpreting it. René hushed her right away. 'Listen', he said 'I consider photography a form of art and interpreting it on an antiseptic level excludes the essence of art, which is personal emotions and thoughts. Of course, everybody is allowed to withdraw something from a picture for themselves, based on their own struggles, but never try to universalize the meaning of a photograph.'

Hanna aggreed submissively.

'One more thing', he said, raising his forefinger, 'Don't let anyone tell you your photographs aren't art. It's art if you want it to be.'

During breakfast the next morning, she told him that he became her idol and she wanted to be just like him. She expected him to be flattered, but he stayed serious. He stood up, poured a cup of coffee and made it the way he usually did - 2 tea spoons of sugar and a bit of cream. 'Well, if you want to be just like me you can start today. You have to do everything the way I do it. Eat exactly what I eat. Drink your coffee the way I drink it.'. He pushed the cup over to her. 'And don't try explaining things in English when you don't know the French word. Only speak French. Pas d'anglais. (No English)' He looked her in the eyes, she seemed confused.

For a moment, they stayed silent.

'Hanna', he finally said, 'please don't try to be a second best version of someone else. You're wonderful, and a really talented photographer, so be the best Hanna Schulz you can be, d'accord? (okay?)'. Hanna smiled. 'D'accord.'

Hanna couldn't figure out if what happened a few days later should have been foreseeable for her, or if it was even her fault.
Nazis used to hang people in the cities and keep them there for a couple of days, to demonstrate what happened to jews or anyone who rebeled against them.

One day, Hanna fought herself through a crowd of people and saw what everybody was staring at - there have been lynchings and three men, one of them being René, were the victims; his dead body was hanging livelessly in the middle of the streets of Paris.

She collapsed onto her knees and held her shaking hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from bursting out a cry. She wanted to run over to him and cut him off the rope, to at least give him the honor of not being stared at by all these people. Some of them, the Nazis, even cheered. These assholes found out he was a jew and killed him.

René would be hanging there for up to a week and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her first intention was to go back home, but she couldn't.

Hanna had to immerse somewhere in France. She felt pangs of remorse. If she hadn't moved into his house, they wouldn't have searched it and they hadn't found out he was a jew; however they did that. Not even she knew. Maybe they killed him for no reason at all.

Hanna was furious and devastated, she aimlessly ran through the forest, with less than half of her luggage. She had to get away, although she knew getting to a different place wouldn't change the situation.