My book is about a tragedy, that addiction causes to the brains of children in a family. The guilt and shame of not knowing what is wrong. The fear of existing and continuing violence not knowing why. During the second world war, the stubbornness of the addict, not wanting to adhere to society. From the age of nine, I was suicidal, but could not do anything, but always wanted to run away, in young children it can be the equivalent of suicide. The hunger for years, due to my Father's alcoholism, his drink came first, and his smoke came first, God said to me to run, and I never stop running in a club which saved my life. Until I could escape after the 1956 revolution against the Russians. I was the one who realized, the end sows the psychology of his deeds, he brought alcohol home and fed us every Sunday morning, trying to secure his alcohol when his grown children will supply him 3 of 5 got to be alcoholics. I alone realized early by 22 years of age, the constant beatings, the force that tried to break our confidence. The war the bombing to wait to die in a basement. Antony, you can shorten it. Actually, the sentences that I start the book off with would give a better picture of the children of addicts.