Disturbed by the noise the train tracks makes on the train from Ostwiecim to Katovice. It makes me think of the millions of people that got transported to the extermination camps back in the 1940’s as tears well up in my eyes. They had no terror in their eyes. No fear in their hearts. Only empty promises and death luring at them. Who am I to judge any country who do not believe and ignore the facts of this terrible time. As I listen to the wind blowing through the leaves. Wonder if this noise brought comfort to the millions stuck in these camps.
This is the sad thing about propaganda. The truth only surface after the worse times. When the survivors comes out and tell the gut wrenched stories of a time best forgotten. Then only we kind of move a limb.
Most angles of the stories from this terrible time makes me sad and angry. But selling the ashes of the burned bodies as fertilizer. Or selling the hair of the killed women in the gas chambers to textile magnets. These two things made me furious. It broke my heart. I sure do need space to process the intensity of the experience.
But then the cause and effect of this is soooo layered. Such a terrible thing. May this happen never again.