Installation.

A row of faded pictures, black and white
They line the walls, balefully staring
Fourteen thousand faces
Fourteen thousand lives
Number them, count them
Old men, young men, women, children
A line of images line the walls
Fourteen thousand nameless faces
‘Why am I here?’
‘Who are you?’
‘What have I done?’
‘My children, my children!’
Here the father of five stares blankly ahead
There the child of five summers weeps
Thumbing the plastic tag around his neck
Two thousand and sixty-five
Her youngest daughter clings to her
She knows she will not see her again
Staring into the camera like the condemned
Fourteen thousand pictures taken
Staring blankly, hopefully, despairingly
Knowing that they look into silence
The lens like the muzzle of a gun
Where are they now?
Where have they gone?
What did they do?
An unknown quantity
They lie in the killing fields
In mass graves in the dark forest
Fourteen thousand pictures
Fourteen thousand dead
They stare back at you from their walls
Faded black and white
Yellowed at the ages
Dare you look back?