In other news, I am avoiding marking and may or may not manage to get round to writing this evening, because I know you care. Oh, have you checked out the 1066 Game? You ought to.
Would you like to know more?
|The first view, rising from the flat marsh.|
|The view toward the new town, the normalcy against|
|The second hut. A field stables.|
Heating systems in the huts but without fuel. Little time in the field stable barracks, mainly outside in back-breaking slave labour and so inside only during night-time. Records speak mainly of thirst rather than cold and heat - due to diarrhoea or typhus or cholera. Herbal tea was served in the morning and soup in the evening but there was no other water or liquid served. Most of the time at work. Inversion rather than introversion. Not victims but humans.
|From the Dutch/Belgian border. Used in the Hungarian|
transportation. Scratched message: "If you see my children,
tell them their mother tell them I".
Roma and Sinti were kept in the camps but were not fully literate and a smaller group, so little was left and little is known either about their lives or their culture or their fate. Prisoners forced to paint them to record the colour and the ethnicity of the melanin content of their character but these were forced and themselves subject to the passive resistance - what then the views that we have remaining? A culture removed, pruned, destroyed and laid waste, an absence after the the physical presence in Auschwitz I. From things to a lack of things. Who were these people? Should one raise the dead? Can one raise the dead even if one accepts it as a valid thing? What do we remember? Not the purpose, not the events or the content of remembrance, rather the substance for I know not what that is.
|To the ruins of Crematorium II from Crematorium III.|
Crematorium IV was removed, scene of the revolt.
|The corridors of needless cruelty.|
|One of the rooms.|
It is in the darkness that the deep finally comes. In the black where we can fully confront ourselves and when it all feels more real, less a fever dream of induced reality and the dreams interrupted at waking at 3am to make the early flight. As if, safe in the dark from the world around us, we feel able to view things in private. Here, in the dark, we can share our journey and our thoughts in the safety of a primal anonymity. A fiction, a comfort and our reflection. Now there is discussion of what has been seen, the remnants and the absence. Now the normalcy is not forced, it is languid. Like the dark itself. In the deep there is darkness and, in the darkness, are we perhaps our most free.