27.04.16

This was our second time walking through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, though it was our first time going into the information center underneath the field of stones. During our first visit here the sun was out and the rest of Berlin seemed to follow suite–there were children playing hide-and-go-seek in between the pillars, groups of teens pick-nicking and drinking on the outskirts of the memorial, and sunbathers lying on top of the tomb-shaped monuments basking in deliciously rare vitamin D. Yesterday’s visit was quite different; storm clouds mirrored the mood of the group as rain attacked our notebooks and washed away our smiles. Upon first entering the information center beneath this semblance of a graveyard I was delighted to be sheltered from the less than desirable weather above, though this happiness was quick to depart and superficial at best.

Difficult, distressing, uncomfortable, painful, disheartening, raw, tormenting, harrowing, troublesome, grueling; none of these words seem to do justice to the effect created by this memorial. The vanity of language gets in the way of the actual experience, and frustrates me now more than ever. How can I even begin to try to express this shit when furiously flipping through the pages of my thesaurus results in paper cuts on my fingers before it could ever lead me to a word that actually says something? I can feel Didi-Huberman’s disappointment growing as I type out the words: I cannot begin to explain because I cannot begin to imagine.

I do not mean that I should not try to imagine, and I do not mean to take away from the validity of this memorial or the experience(s) created by it. What I do mean is that I am a firm believer of the idea that one can never fully know what one has not experienced. I can do my best to take in as much information as my own brain is capable of about the Holocaust, but I will never be able to find the “right” words to describe it, because I have led too privileged of a life to do so and/or to do so well.