The city my grandfather used to call home no longer exists â except in our minds
âIâm numb and shivering. Thereâs no trace of my heritage, nothing here to connect toâ: Michael Segalov. Photograph: Piotr Malecki/The Observer
âIâm numb and shivering. Thereâs no trace of my heritage, nothing here to connect toâ: Michael Segalov. Photograph: Piotr Malecki/The Observer
After his death, I wanted to know more about his life, and the city that made him and very nearly killed him
Sat 24 Apr 2021 11.00 EDT
Every Hanukkah through my childhood, if I was visiting my grandparentsâ Liverpool home, my Grandpa Oskar told me the exact same story. With a pickle on his side plate â my grandma serving up his favourite dinner of latkes, vusht (smoked sausage) and eggs â heâd recount the night during this very Jewish festival in 1937 that his family â our family â fled for their lives from the Nazis.