It would have been, br then, or even now br a real privilege br to know the Belsen boy. br Or, would it be br within the possibilities br to have a peek br at that old photograph. br The similarity between br the man who does resemble br a stick and nothing more br and one brave soul br who has been found br and whipped br by Cancer br show clearly in br the bathroom mirror. br br Each morning br he looks and acts br the same. br Because he's always there, br reminding me br of ethnic cleansing. br He loves my soapy hands br and giggles at the foam br which is a make-believe br it shows the man before, br like an old photograph br from times long gone. br br There's colour in his face br and lips, so ruby red br they speak. br br A tiny bubble blows br to me as if to say br I'm just a bit of soap, br a thought for you. br br We take our time, br the two of us, br and call each other names, br like Belsen boy br it is a slippery game br watched over by br the ancient mirror. br br And as the bounty of br our soap just clings br and slowly fades br we get a glimpse br into the depth of br two brave souls.