The Museum consists of pictures after pictures mounted on every wall of the four-storey building, showing horrific scenes from the Vietnam War.
As you move from one wall of pictures to the next, going from one room to another and from one floor to the next floor, you're confronted by pictures of dead bodies, of tortures, of massacres, of utter desperation and fear as people flee for their lives, of total desolation and destructions, of deformed bodies and faces and missing limbs caused by Agent Orange, of bleeding babies and children, of charred remains, and on and on.
The horrors of the war in the pictures were just too much to stomach yet at the same time too terrible to ignore.
Even though I grew up during the Vietnam War and read about it in the press, I walked away from the visit with a much better feeling for how much the Vietnamese people had suffered and endured. The scars can still be seen in some of the people who are living with their deformities today.
After the visit, I wondered if I had gone through such a horrific past, would I be able to become the nice, gentle and welcoming person that tourists tend to expect from the locals in the place they visit.
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