In a short letter I penned for my Father while I was in Berlin, I noted with poignant reflection, that a city with so many war memorials doesn’t seem right.
One of the most eerie, and to many, perplexing war memorials dotting the city was the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe designed by Peter Eisenman.
Known also as the Holocaust Memorial, it consist of 19,000 square meters site covered with 2,700 concrete pillars, each
stelae is 95 centimeters wide and 2,375 meters long, with each height varying from zero to 4 meters. No blocks are alike. They are arranged in a grid pattern, over an undulating field.
Each pillar is spaced 95 centimeters apart to allow only one person to navigate through the grid.
In a note written by the architect to explain the design, he declared “In this monument there is no goal, no end, no working one's way in or out,"
According to the memorial leaflet about the site, the design did not use the usual symbolism style for memorials. This very modern approach to the memorial, almost free of associations from the holocaust, is open to many interpretations.
Which, I guess, is where most criticisms come from – that the modern design helps bury the shame and horror of Germany’s darkest hours.
It is true that there is an annex below the memorial that provides background on the victims commemorated. But then, with no pun intended, it is kind of buried underground if you don’t find it.
Walking inside the concrete pillars, there are indeed eerie moments. Like when bursts of voices arrive to lightly startle you. Oftentimes laughter and shrieks from kids playing hide-and-seek among the blocks would pierce the silence. And if you turn fast enough, you'll see glimpse of them as they disappear among the blocks.
Indeed, there are times when you feel a bit lost amidst the labyrinth, fleeting moments of unease. Like you can’t go out or choose what direction to take next, that you are trapped in a never-ending cul-de-sacs.
But to declare that to walk inside the blocks was to actually feel what the victims felt during the years of monstrousity is tantamount to a denial of the horror of the holocaust itself. I don’t think we can build a monument that will duplicate the anguish and terror of that epoch.
But I guess, to me, this will do for now. When I walked in and found myself alone amidst a very narrow space, devoid of contact from anyone else, and all I saw were blocks of grey concrete walls surrounding me, with all the street sound muffled, I ended up submerged into a private world where my only companion was my thought. In a moment that was mine alone, I ended up confronting the sheer madness of it all. I said my sorry in silence.
If you continue to walk towards the southeast corner of the site, like I did, and descend down the stairs to the Information Center, you will find four small rooms with displays dedicated to the murdered Jews in Europe.
When I entered the first room, I was confronted with a letter written by a Jewish girl named Judith Wischnjatskaja who wrote to her Dad in America in 1942. It was found by a Soviet officer after the war and was sent to Jerusalem.
"Dear Father! I take my leave of you before death. We would so much like to live, but they won't let us, we will perish. I am so afraid of this death, for the small children are thrown alive into the grave. Goodbye forever. I kiss you. Your J."
She penned this letter to her Father when she was twelve years old.
There was no date given as to when she was murdered.
i like to think there's a reason to everything - but at the moment i'm at a loss to think of a single reason behind the devastation that happened to Japan. 
