By tour’s end, I decided that even if I had visited on a sunny
day in June, it still would have felt like January in my soul.
Afterward, I met some friends for a burger at an oddly place, a beer-serving
McDonald’s Cafe restaurant just across the road from Dachau. I ordered but
couldn’t eat much. It felt wrong, sacrilegious even.
Looking around the cafe that day at all the people scarfing down their food
seemingly unaware Dachau was across the road brought to mind the story my tour
guide told about those who lived nearby who went about their daily lives, later
claiming they were unaware of the atrocities taking place, despite the sounds,
sights, and putrid odors just a stone’s throw away.
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