The Windowless

we visited Auschwitz-Birkenau, when we were in Krakow, Poland last summer. the despair, the desperation of the extermination camp, what they thought when they looked out through the minuscule windows, i can hardly imagine.

we first studied about the horrors of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust in school, the massive numbers - which were both shocking yet numbing. visiting Berlin was an eye-opener, Sachsenhausen concentration camp a somber experience. Oscar was a little reluctant to visit Auschwitz-Birkenau, because we had left Sachsenhausen, a work camp, instead of an extermination camp, extremely depressed. needless to say, Auschwitz-Birkenau was jarring - the exhibits of hair, clothing, boots emotive and disturbing. to sit in one of the dark bunks, little light streaming in through the windows, frightfully eerie.

as students of history, we debate about coming to terms with the past, with history. and i have often wondered, how does one come to terms with the history of the Holocaust? needless to say, how concentration camps are exhibited have come under academic discussion and even criticism - for being too dramatic, too emotive, or even political in its purpose. at the end of the day, i suppose, as depressing as a visit to these concentration camps might be, a conscious effort to forget would be even scarier.

(s, wondering about the hopelessness of windows)