Next door is hell.
Behind the garden wall there is the camp.
In the Höss family home, life continues as if nothing had happened.
Monsieur, with his medieval haircut with shaved temples, runs Auschwitz.
Madame prunes her climbing roses.
What's more normal?
This brave housewife keeps up appearances.
She knows, though.
On the extermination, silence is required.
Hardly if, when she doesn't watch herself, she threatens a servant to reduce her to ashes.
The exemplary couple shares the tasks.
The gas chambers are his;
the smooth running of everyday life is for her.
The camera will never cross the cursed border.
There are these guttural cries, these explosions, these barks.
And then these strange plumes of smoke rising from the roofs.
The barbed wire hardly pretends to be there for decoration.
There is something enchanting and quirky.
The children, five of them, swim and bicker in the pool with their…
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