I am boggled by how seen I feel and how much I feel I saw of Anne Frank. Utterly perplexed by how similar and yet different all of our lives are. 

I saw myself in some of her feelings and saw the truth of her quiet Anne, and the one others saw. 

I could also only imagine how her father must have felt reading that diary. I often think of his quote about how little parents know of their children. 

Such a moving, true, raw tale of what it is to be human. And a fascinating account of their secret annex, worthy of a spy novel indeed.