Even If Surrounded With Explanations, Auschwitz Can

In Statistics, What Disappears Behind Rows Of Numbers Is Death.

...i Remain Restless And Dissatisfied; What I Knot With My Right Hand, I Undo With My Left, What My Left Hand Creates, My Right Fist Shatters

Where Man Had Been, In Every Place He Left, Garbage Remained. Even In His Pursuit Of The Ultimate Truth And Quest For His God, He Produced Garbage. By His Garbage, Which Lay Stratum Upon Stratum, He Could Always - One Had Only To Dig - Be Known. For More Long-lived Than Man Is His Refuse. Garbage Alone Lives After Him.

I Was Assigned To The Waffen-ss But Was Never Involved In Any Crime. Besides, I Always Felt The Need To Write About My Experiences In A Larger Context One Day. This Has Only Developed Recently, Now That I Have Overcome My Inner Aversion To Writing An Autobiography In The First Place, Specifically One Having To Do With My Younger Years.

And When The Sun Goes Down And The Mood Comes Upon Me, I'll Watch The Play Of The Colors On The Water, Yield To The Fleetly Dissolving Images, And Turn Into Pure Feeling, All Soft And Nice.