THE CAMP.
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They come to the camp as people used to; On the trains, those same trains and are met, at the end of the line by the few.
From the yard to this block and that block, anyone who wants to see can see, your guide will gladly show you. (a yellow star I wore before)
these were the kitchens.
Rust is eating the barbed wire. It will, of course, eat it all. The blocks and huts with sagging roofs will crumble away someday and disappear and simply not be there. (but the camp will always be here) This is the toilet I used! (they may blush a little here!) But they'll show you, they don't mind.
Grass so overgrown is almost touching a metal loudspeaker horn, high on a pole. Those were the tool stores and those were the krematories.
By all means, have a look in that room! (sadly, no, I regret I can not remember what they did in there)
The officers would lean against (here) and smoke because notice how (here) the Kommandant's view from his office is obscured. Isn't it funny how things never change! A cousin of mine was shot (here). People would dig graves with these shovels. Later, those people would be buried in graves dug by other people using those same shovels. (please, sir, do not touch them. They are historical artefacts.)
It is only a clutch of temporary buildings, surrounded by a fence, and it is ugly. Time, of course, will see that it disintegrates. I hope you found your visit here educational.
It is possible (if unlikely) there will come a time when there are no such things as 'tourists', but the camp will always be here.
N. McKane, January, 2004.