I found myself, yesterday morning, at the War Remnants Museum in Saigon. Say what you will about this space and what it contains, a visit is always a confronting experience.
There was a group of maybe 30 high school students there, 14 or 15 year olds, boys and girls, who in that earlier time might have been combatants.
I was struck by this one boy who would repeatedly pause in front of some awful image from that war, now so long ago, read the inscription, hang his head as he tried to understand the enigma that was the Vietnam War, and then, slowly, he would reach out and touch the image with his hand. as he sought to understand that which was not understandable.
His simple act was beautiful, and it was moving.
These photographs, in the "Agent Orange" section are not good, in fact they are terrible, they are out of focus and poorly composed, like the Vietnam conflagration itself, but this boy's thoughtfulness was as moving as any of the terrible images that we, together, observed.
