A vast axis of granite, sixty metres wide and nearly two kilometres long, laid as a parade route for Hitler's army. The soldiers it was built for never marched here, and today its weathered slabs serve mostly as an overflow car park.

A still, silver-grey lake that looks idyllic but hides one of the most poisoned secrets of the rally grounds. Its waters fill the abandoned pit of a stadium Hitler meant to be the largest on earth.

A pair of calm medieval ponds at the heart of the former rally grounds, where families now paddle boats across water that once mirrored the unfinished Congress Hall. The peaceful surface hides how brutally the Nazis reshaped this beloved recreational landscape.

The long stone tribune where Hitler stood before hundreds of thousands, and the most recognizable piece of Nazi architecture on the rally grounds. Its central rostrum once wore a colossal gilded swastika above a sea of massed crowds.

A vast rectangular arena the size of twelve football pitches, anchored by the long stone grandstand from which Hitler addressed hundreds of thousands. This is the most infamous of all the surviving rally structures.

The largest building the Nazi regime ever began, a colossal unfinished shell of brick and granite modelled on the Colosseum in Rome. Today a modern glass and steel walkway spears diagonally through its northern head, housing the Documentation Center that confronts the crimes once staged across these grounds.

A restrained 1930 war memorial that the Nazis swallowed into a vast paved parade ground, staging their cult of the dead where a city had quietly grieved its own.

A quiet stone on the Pegnitz river marks where Nuremberg's Grand Synagogue once stood, torn down by the Nazis in 1938. Its emptiness is the memorial.

The wood panelled courtroom where the Nuremberg Trials brought the leaders of Nazi Germany to account before the world. Today it stands as the Memorium Nuremberg Trials, a museum devoted to the birth of modern international justice.