We have visited all sorts of beautiful spots, and one terrible and sad place. The night before we went to Dachau, I had a dream about being back in high school. I was in my sophomore history class, with Mr. Remington. He was one of my favorite teachers. One morning he walked into class and closed the drapes. There was a movie projector set up. We started joking about "where's the popcorn" and stuff like that. He stopped us cold and told us that what we were going to see wasn't funny. What he showed us was the films made of the liberation of the concentration camps at the end of the Second World War. Those moments in that dark classroom are probably one of the most powerful moments I have ever experienced.
As I walked through the gates of Dachau, and down the road that runs between the barracks, I felt a sense of stillness and sadness, and I recalled the lesson that Mr. Remington taught me many years ago. There were things I needed to see, and I saw them. As I stood before the ovens, I was struck by how perfect the light was, streaming in from the open door behind me. Purifying.
I had other pictures selected for today, but I guess they'll have to wait for tomorrow.