The Bus to Auschwitz

You are on the bus now, rickety old thing that it was, rattling along the roads and lanes leading to Auschwitz. Getting nearer and nearer to that astonishing location from history that will live forever. You are leaving Wonderland behind, for something else. Something else. I hope you feel the force and take something similar to what I did from it. The day is grey and miserable. It is a dark day for such a place. It was so good to see you again, to share a small part of the days together, just some days for you and I. I wish you well. Our paths, our journeys, are far from easy, but we are blessed.

You will have emerged from the bus and stepped into the horror-show. The brutal and essential museum of the Holocaust. My thoughts are with you, as they often are with those who were lost, who fought, who suffered for love, for hope, for us.

The bus must have made the journey thousands of times. It showed the wear and tear of time. The numerous years. It looked like it could fall apart at any moment. It was the bus to Auschwitz. Some bus had to do it, some driver had to get it there, and some people had to take it in. As much as they could. The history of the happenings and the constant evolution of it all. The art of Monday, a grey day, a day like any other.