31 Oct 2000
I spent the afternoon at Dachau concentration camp. The conservative estimates say that 60,000 people died there, during the war. Some died from malaria, or from starvation, or malnutrition, or target practice, or electrocution.
It was bitingly cold. The wind stung my nose and throat. Yellow and green and orange leaves fell in hundreds to the ground. Beautifully, delicately made. My eyes teared and the mass became one blur; I couldn’t bear it any other way. But I couldn’t bear it anyway. The crushing weight of human horror is simply too much.