AT A GLANCE the photographs would appear to show any run-down backyard scene in Nondescript, Europe. A forest clearing. Damp-stained buildings with glowering, monochrome architecture. Concrete wastegrounds between tower blocks, the gray palate perhaps enlivened with a basketball hoop or a playset.  

Then the camera looks closer. The details: Strange grassed-over mounds between the trees. A once grand house neglected in a way that feels scornful, somehow. Fence creepers not quite obscuring bulletholes. Gritty soil that, at a close peer, isn't soil at all. 

Almost eight decades on from the German surrender at the end of World War II, living memory of the atrocities of the Holocaust are fading. In the minds of those