The moon is full. The striped skeletons stand at attention, their frostbitten hands at their sides. S.S guards stalk the perimeter, their menacing eyes constantly watching, their coiled whips prepared to strike. “Singen Sie!” an officer shouts. The skeletons begin marching. A morose chorus of voices drifts up from the courtyard. The haunting melody fills the air as the skeletons parade across the trampled snow. “Lauter, Juden!” Louder, Jews! A shot is fired; a skeleton falls to the ground, motionless. The singing intensifies, threatening the existence of barbed wire, of gas chambers, of complete genocide. Erratic sobs penetrate the vocal testament. Skeletons fall to their knees, trying desperately to grasp this piece of broken reality. Indistinguishable forms suddenly become mothers, daughters, sisters, human beings. They are people once again: people who have dreams, people who have a future. As the music pulsates through their souls, they are renewed. They can survive. They can triumph over death. They can return to humanity.