“I spend the day unpacking and reading mail. In the afternoon I go for a long walk in the woods around my rural home, troubled by the many human scenes of grief, embarrassment, and disbelief I witnessed at the main Auschwitz camp and at Birkenau. I wonder why there are no billboards on those grounds, telling us, say, of Stalin and the Gulags in Siberia that were to come later. Of the rise of Marcos, Stroessner, Charles Taylor, Milošević. I recall the Mothers of the Disappeared in Buenos Aires in the 1980s, shouting “¡Nunca más!” And then later those same words in Chile. And after that, in Nicaragua.”