Description:

How can one begin to conceive of rendering the holocaust? : Within a pair of dusty spectacles? Within a gold tooth? Within a pond waist deep in mud? Within a chamber pot or a knot of ancient hair upon the floor of a filthy room? Within the image of a shower? Preserve this fag-end of modernity’s archive, this miserable little piece of the real; for the holocaust is sublime, a true Kantian unimaginable. It is howling as a bloodied fox in the corner of a room we rarely visit, in a house that we have seldom dwelled in but merely glimpsed in shadows from train windows, high upon a European hill, on occasional moonlit winter nights.