And there I was, walking alone in silence through the empty concentration camp of Buchenwald.
Since it was Monday, the museum was closed and the concentration camp was empty and deserted when I arrived.
In silent sorrow, I walked along the rows of barbed wire fences as the hoarfrost left a light powder on the frozen ground.
In silent horror, I walked in and out of the crematoria with stacks of urns filled with ashes.
In silent emptiness, I walked past the razed barracks of the prisoners of Buchenwald—leaving memorial stones on the markers.
In the silence, I heard echoes of anguish.
The wind sweeping through whispered to me of dark days ahead.