I arrived at Braunau that I had just graduated with a thesis on German exile literature during the twelve years of the dictatorship, so you can appreciate my curiosity. A micro narration in a minute or so.

TRANSCRIPT
It’s raining. It must be around 11am. I’m hiding inside the sleeping bag, inside the tent, listening. It has been raining since I arrived here, last night, and I still haven’t been able to go outside to look around. I am in Braunau. I have been thinking about it all night, wondering what people look like here, his birthplace, whether there will be a statue in his name. I hope not. But then, I mean, you never know. I kind of believe that I will be able to find his face in those of the people of the village. I know, it’s crazy to think so, I bet that here ‘Hitler’ is just another name, like Schmidt.