2017 . August . Buchenwald

Today it was Buchenwald.

Largely destroyed with heaps of buildings and their smithereened parts strewn everywhere.

A horrendous view from this hilltop hell.

It might have been a beautiful view in other lifetimes or lives lived, but up here, surrounded by brutality, one look down over the vast view of farms and villages must have brought a certain kind of aching smash to the hearts of the prisoners.

And my heart?

Never gets over the thousands upon millions who suffered these cruelties.

I carry them all with me, here, inside.

Considering the bigger picture of this devastating place, my empathy is a trite little effort to make a difference in a world gone by that I cannot change.

Boise and my Great-Grandmother

When I was in Boise I visited the haunts of my ancestors.

Here I stand on land which once held the house my great-grandmother and her sister lived in while they ran their photography studio around the corner in 1908.

It can be hard to reconcile the need for parking lots when I long to connect with the structure that nestled these powerful ladies on long winter nights, or the earth itself that carried the subtle vibration of their footsteps.

At least I've got their love for cameras and their mover-and-shaker genes to comfort me.