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Lena had come with one purpose she could defend . Her brother had refused the journey and called it dark tourism . She wanted a single photograph of the gate at a former Nazi concentration camp , empty of faces , so she could show him that she had come to remember . If the picture showed only iron and sky , she thought , he might stop treating the visit as a thrill . The queue moved slowly . Before the entrance a guide set the terms . On the open paths a phone could remain in a pocket . In the barracks it stayed out of sight , and no one was to raise it for a pose . A young man beside Lena lifted his arm , a smile already in place , brick at his back . The guide did not raise her voice . She asked him to lower the camera . He obeyed a moment late , and the people behind him looked at the ground . Lena's own picture was still allowed . From the path , the gate would show iron and sky and nobody's grin . She lifted the phone and framed it . At the edge a child pointed , and an older woman turned her face from the lenses . Lena lowered her hand . The shot was permitted . It would also have turned the gate into a postcard before she had understood the first room . Inside , the rooms were narrow . Behind glass lay a mass of shoes , and suitcases with names still painted on the sides . The guide refused a simple tale of good people and bad people . She spoke of the Holocaust , and of a government that had used camps , lists , trains and timetables to carry out mass murder . A visitor asked for the one figure that would measure the horror . She would not give it . A number , she said , can be repeated by someone who has not looked . She asked them to hold the system rather than a single total . Near the exit a stall offered books and thin candles . Lena bought nothing . People live beside places like this , she thought . A memorial can bring them work , and it also asks them to stay with a grief that visitors leave behind . She wondered who the money reached , and whether the dead were being turned into a display . On the bus her brother wrote : Send a photo , if you can bear to . She began a long reply , the defense she had practiced on the train , and deleted every line . I did not take one . I am glad I went . That was smaller than the speech she had wanted , and it was the only sentence she believed .
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