Visiting the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

‘It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say.’ Primo Levi.

Writing from the Holocaust

I am standing in the Room of Dimensions. I’m having trouble holding back the tears that are threatening to spill over and trickle down my cheeks. The room is starkly lit and my shadow is looming over the transcript on the floor at my feet. I brush tears away and continue reading through blurred vision.

‘…Goodbye forever. I kiss you tenderly. Your, J.’

There are many letters and diary entries. They’re descriptive, shocking, deeply moving, heart-wrenching and terrifyingly sad. I read them all, sometimes two or three times, taking in every single word. Just trying to absorb what I’m seeing.

It’s difficult to read about such atrocities when this history is less than a century old. It feels we have learned so little from it. In this day and age, it’s easy to imagine history repeating itself, just like Primo Levi’s horrifying suggestion.

2,711 Concrete Stelae

As I take my leave of the museum, I notice a quote on the wall:

‘Es ist geschehen, und folglich kann es wieder geschehen. Darin liegt der Kern dessen, was wir zu sagen haben.‘

‘It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say.‘ Primo Levi.

Outside, under leaden grey skies, the 2,711 concrete stelae that make up the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe sit heavy and brooding. Tourists like myself are wandering among the stelae. The slabs form a grid pattern, with narrow pathways running between them.

I turn down on of the many lanes and am plunged into shadow. The air becomes oppressive and claustrophobic. The ground dips away below foot and the slabs rise high over my head, blocking out the light as I walk deeper into the heart of the memorial.

As I emerge on the other side, I pause and look back. I’ve spent two hours here, roaming the network of paths and reading every single letter, diary entry and note in the underground museum. My mood is sober.

Although I need to make my way back to Alexanderplatz, I feel reluctant to leave. The place holds me, leaves me standing a good five minutes longer. Holding onto this moment in time and remembering why this memorial is here.

The Six Million.

The Berliner Fernsehturm, soaring over the city and dominating the skyline, guides me back towards Alexanderplatz. My mood is still quiet and sombre, so I take my time. I walk under Brandenburger Tor and stroll along Unter den Linden past the Berliner Dom with its distinctive green domes.

The trees are a riot of colour and the dishwater skies provide an excellent backdrop on which to add splashes of gold, red and orange. Despite my reflective mood, I smile faintly. The city is showing off. Autumn has gripped Berlin.