🪼🪼🪼

Can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of this movie, or the Orson Scott Card book that starts with walking abandoned interstates

Heartbroken. In May 1945, my grandfather was a liberator of the worst and cruellest of the work camps (many artists, intellectuals & political prisoners btw). I have his photographs of emaciated survivors and piles of corpses. I can’t get my mind, or heart, around the depths of this betrayal.