Visiting Brest after reading All the Light We Cannot See is to walk through a ghost of a city, a place irrevocably marked by destruction and resilience. The rebuilt streets, while modern, cannot entirely erase the echoes of the wartime devastation that shaped Werner and Marie-Laure's lives. The imposing concrete of the U-boat pens, still standing, serves as a stark reminder of the occupying forces and the machinery of war that permeated the city. Though the novel's specific addresses may be gone, the spirit of the old walled city, the sense of being caught between the beauty of the sea and the looming threat from above, lingers. A visitor might find themselves looking towards the sky, imagining the planes that haunted Marie-Laure, or feeling the weight of history in the very stones beneath their feet, understanding, on a deeper level, the fragility of memory and the enduring power of the human spirit amidst unimaginable loss.