A Hard Cell.

A building with its own headline.

Budapest, Hungary – For decades, 60 Andrássy Avenue was the last place you’d want to find yourself.

Now, it’s a popular tourist attraction.

The House of Terror Museum is set in the former headquarters of both the pro-Nazi Arrow Cross and the communist secret police. It’s a symbolic address in the minds of generations of Hungarians.

The museum, though, is almost cinematic.

A Russian tank crouches in the lobby, metaphorically leaking oil as abrasive rock riffs fill the courtyard. The soundscape whisks you through a series of sets and period pieces. An eerie standup bass gives way to light strings.

Then, a black car appears, suddenly lit behind a curtain – as you imagine it would have in the middle of the night.

As a monument to those punished by two of the country’s recent totalitarian regimes, I find it almost too glossy, too much of a modern art piece. That feeling only ends, temporarily, after I slowly descend into the basement.

It’s where political opponents would vanish into cold stone cells, knuckled under fists of fury. There, in the shallow air, my imagination can finally sketch out their horrors.

If you ended up in there, you may have ended there.