Sunday, May 04, 2008

4 May

It is always spring when we commemorate our dead. When people dressed in black gather in many places in this city and this country to remember those who were killed during the second world war and the wars after there is silence. And that silence is always broken by the birds, singing at the top of their voices in the early evening. It is never this quiet, and you can never hear them better. And somehow they never sound more joyful.

When I visited Auschwitz I was overwhelmed by the atmosphere, knowing about all of the history, but obviously never sensing it so clearly. Looking out over the huge area that was once Birkenau, you feel the complete emptiness and desolation, the enormity of it all. you cannot really even begin to imagine what happened there. The sight renders you speechless and almost numb. Here the Redstarts inhabit one of the pavillions where women used to live, and it was their sound I heard. Again, it was the only sound.

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