I was on a trip to Germany. Not reaching Hannover, we stopped in the evening at the street hotel. How great it was there. A cozy dining room on the first floor, a luxurious fireplace, knights in armor at the corners, hunting trophies on the walls. An elderly German, the host of the hotel, was very hospitable and very kind. The room is small but extremely cozy. The windows went out to the back yard, but it was already dark, even though the eye was shaken. I woke up early, at six o’clock, when needed, the man looked out the window. A dense, white fog flattened on the ground, it was quiet, in fifty meters from the hotel suddenly looked at the local cemetery. And seemingly nothing like that, high, strict tombs, wellined, clean, in general, complete Ordnung. Imagination immediately painted that picture. As they walk through this fog, roaming and scorning, white faces are distorted, clothes are torn, with stones approach the hotel. Shaken by sweet horror.