The experience comes upon us gradually.

Walking along a pathway, we come to a depression in the ground.

A large pit, 75 ft. diameter, opens up before us, bisected by the path. As the path descends, the bodies start to surround us, tortured figures of those who were murdered and thrown into the hole. We are encompassed. We are walking through the valley of the shadow of death.

The bodies in the pit are formed of cast concrete, white bone-like structures, ghostly memories.

These bodies are life-size, equal in scale to the viewer. At the center of the pit, these bodies are about chest high, with the visitor standing amongst them. All senses are brought into the experience. The sound of silence in this amphitheatre rushes around us like an ocean. The concrete bodies fuse with the pathway, bringing us into the event, refusing us the relief of being separate.

These are people connecting in their final moments: mothers who just served breakfast, children taking a day off from school, newlyweds planning their lives, artists dreaming their dreams. Elderly people degraded. Youth cut down.

The faces tell everything.

Terror, disbelief, agony, shock, outrage.

They are caught at the moment of losing their dignity, their faith, their trust in mankind, their hope.She could have been our sister, our mother, our lover. He could have been our father. That child could have been our baby. It could just as easily be us.

The only difference is that we are alive.

We are graced with the ability to walk out.