A void of lost memories

Mood: somber
Stage notes: a portly elderly man loudly singing Sinatra to the tune of the hotel piano

I visited the Jewish Museum Berlin tonight. The building is constructed with the intention of throwing visitors off balance. It is effective. The tall concrete walls are cold to the touch and the windows are just narrow zagging scars across their face. There are no right angles anywhere. The floors and walls are a sloping madness. Ghosts prowl the hallways. Videos, photos, and scraps of belongings--the leftovers of people's lives--are simply displayed. It felt almost obscene and voyeuristic to be staring at them. One of the most powerful spaces came in the form of a long, ill-lit hallway. Upon reaching the end you see an expanse of inch-thick metal cylinders layering the floor. Some are rusted, some shiny and new. All of them have holes cut through them in the form of weeping eyes and gaping mouths. As you walk across them they clank out screams and their subtle artistry is permanently tattooed on your mind.