Auschwitz 29/06/2016

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On our last evening in Poland, one woman speaks about her father, his time in Russia, mentioning Katowice as well. We didn’t visit Katowice, but Oswiecim. Did he go there as well?

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Before we enter Auschwitz, trouble starts. “I won’t leave my bag here, with all my documents.” An another woman says: “The Jews weren’t allow to bring anything.”

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Before the Crematorium, I take off the headset. A bird starts singing. If I closed my eyes, with someone I love next to me, I’d be in paradise; so peaceful.

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“In the end, tourists come.” And they want pizza and cola, to eat, to drink. Books about World War II. cost more and are less easy to digest.

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1.500 ml of water. For 2 hours. Only for me. 75 years ago, seconds became minutes became hours became days became months. And there was no water to drink, to wash.

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Our guide rushes us through Auschwitz. 2, 3 times he is told to take more time, but he doesn’t, refuses. His words, no the way he suddenly pauses before saying a single word, makes you grasp for breath. It’s only outside a barrack in Auschwitz-Birkenau, when he calms down. Asks us to ask him questions. I don’t ask my most urgent question. “How are you able to tell these stories every day?”

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The saddest thing I ever saw were two American Jehovah’s Witnesses standing on the short way from the parking lot to the entrance to Auschwitz-Birkenau, advertising God and their religion. Or maybe I’m wrong, and they’re right; to bring God to a godless place like this.

29. Juni 2016

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