Marta would send me pictures of a young Stanislaw wearing his bow tie in a college portrait and in his room surrounded by his art. He was dressed in his military uniform in cadet school and later laughing at parties with his future wife. I would see him playfully mugging for the camera, with his family at his home in Kraków, and of him reverently holding his daughter.
When viewing the pictures I realized the common factor they all shared, even his Auschwitz intake picture, was the ever present glint in his eye. It seemed as though this, what had captured my attention from the very start, was the one thing the Nazi’s were unable to strip from him.