I got a phone call from Paris yesterday night. A young lady was on the line. She read my book and found that her grandfather was the same age of my father, and from the same small town in "Galicia" (Ukraine of today). Both went out from the small town to study architecture; my father to Vienne, and her grandfather to Paris and became a painter. Her grandfather, André Blondel, was a very talented painter that unfortunately died in a tragic accident in 1949 after he survived the WW2.
This was one of few surprises I got after my book "out of the shoebox" was published.

You can't imagine what you can find when you read a non-fiction novel …

For me, as an author, the story never stops.