Can I just start by saying -- there are no words. No, that's not true, there are -- they just aren't good enough.
The museum doesn't allow pictures, and frankly, I didn't care to take any.
The house is like nothing you could ever imagine -- for a lot of reasons. For starters, its actually above a factory not another house. And something else, its much bigger than I had ever pictured in my mind. Aside from the physical space, there were so so many people who helped them. I mean, I knew that -- of course, but the risk, the generosity, it was so overwhelming.
In fact -- everything about the experience was overwhelming.
Truth be told though, its so much better than the story of a little girl living with her family in confinement and hiding. The museum has made sure that the experience matters, that you understand (as best as anyone not in that situation ever could) the war, these lives, the neighbourhoods, the military -- all of it -- in the most interconnected way.
All of the feelings of those few hours in museum remain with me today (and will always).

I searched the internet for these photos for you. They aren't in any particular order.
Here is the book case, opening to the left, that leads to the hidden staircase up to the apartment. The bookcase is always propped slightly open, and it is the entrance to the apartment today.

This is a sketch of the interior of the apartment. Its in the back of the factory and is spread over three levels.

This is the front of the house/factory. The museum owns the entire building now, and allows the public into the apartment. Additionally, downstairs there is an exhibit dedicated to the work of the museum's anti-semitic/anti-racism organisation.

After all that, a smile for you. I am standing in the line to the house. Its such an important museum, the line regularly wraps around corner/block. We arrived early, and fortunately the line was at a minimum.