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This summer, while on vacation in the Poconos, I took an art class. For the first time in my life, I felt a completely new and unexpectedly strong desire to draw.

I made a painting of myself swimming in the ocean and reaching for safety. In my painting, Russia is left behind. I placed it in the corner, making it look like an island composed of red and black spots: all blood and darkness of labor camps, pogroms, prisons, and war.

All those images lingering in my mind: my childhood in the confined atmosphere of our communal apartment, brightened only by the close relationship with my uncle Arkady during his brief releases from prison; my parents’ constant fear of police visits to re-arrest my uncle; my being bullied and called “Zhidovka” in my early years in school; living among whispers, fears and secrets, always looking behind my back for the shadow of Communists agents. And still, growing up with the strengthening awareness that I had to fight for my rights to be free and win this battle despite all odds.

I painted the ocean in dark blue colors. There are some spots of lighter blue amidst the darkness. Perhaps islands where I lived before or dolphins trying to rescue me. In the middle of the ocean, my arm is reaching for the sun, which looks more like a yellow and red exotic flower. Land, a few bright green lines at the top of the canvas, is still far away.

From Nellie’s memoir “ My Different Lives: Through the Iron Curtain to Freedom.”