The spectre of the Holocaust hangs over this introspective and deeply philosophical book. One man recounts his experiences, his emotions and how over the years he has come to terms with Auschwitz. Loss and longing for the things lost or never were run throughout this brief, compelling story.
As a Jew or a Christian, as a hero or victim, possibly as the injured party of a metaphysical absurdity or of a demiurgic neochaos? Since these concepts mean nothing to him, he decides that at least he will not pollute the pure fact of his death with lies. He sees everything simply because he has won the right to clear-sightedness: 'We should not seek meaning where there is none: the century, this execution squad on permanent duty, is now once again preparing for decimation, and destiny has decreed that one of the tenth lots should be cast on me - that's all there is to it,' are the last words he says (with my own words, of course).