Death is an experience that I hardly think about. Whether it concerns my family, friends, or myself, death is something in which I have ultimately no thought of in my day to day life. For Elie Wiesel, during his stay in a Nazi Concentration Camp, death was everywhere. Death was upon his family, friends, and lingered heavily upon him throughout his time spent as a prisoner at various concentration camps. In his world death was reality, death was everyday life. Death was even in the air as crematoriums burned the dead up into ashes. What I found so profoundly amazing within Wiesel's book, Night, was the realness of something as a fortunate young adult I have never had to consider. That is death.…
