At four o'clock the bus took us to the main monuments, which are all situated near or around the Tidal Basin.
the Jefferson Memorial: a huge black statue in a white temple of a man overlooking the capital,
the Lincoln Memorial: another white temple with a statue of a seated president overlooking the Mall,
the Roosevelt Memorial: a beautiful park with several sculptures and meaningful texts engraved in the walls, messages full of hope for a world at peace.
But then come:
the Korean War Memorial: statues of soldiers coming out of the shrubs, faces of the deceased etched on the walls
the Vietnam War Memorial: to me the most moving of all, due to its simplicity. A black wall of polished granite slabs inscribed with the names of 58000 victims in the chronological order of their deaths. A path guides my steps along the wall that seems to grow, as the path goes down and then up again. A feeling of being in the trenches, beneath the level of the grass, buried with these men and women comes over me. Family members and friends looking for a name, leaving a token, a message.
In the streets of America, many veterans of these wars are now homeless, beggars, jobless people. The scars of these wars are still apparent. They leave a bitter taste. So many dreams came true in this country and yet so many nightmares seem to haunt it too.
the Jefferson Memorial: a huge black statue in a white temple of a man overlooking the capital,
the Lincoln Memorial: another white temple with a statue of a seated president overlooking the Mall,
the Roosevelt Memorial: a beautiful park with several sculptures and meaningful texts engraved in the walls, messages full of hope for a world at peace.
But then come:
the Korean War Memorial: statues of soldiers coming out of the shrubs, faces of the deceased etched on the walls
the Vietnam War Memorial: to me the most moving of all, due to its simplicity. A black wall of polished granite slabs inscribed with the names of 58000 victims in the chronological order of their deaths. A path guides my steps along the wall that seems to grow, as the path goes down and then up again. A feeling of being in the trenches, beneath the level of the grass, buried with these men and women comes over me. Family members and friends looking for a name, leaving a token, a message.
In the streets of America, many veterans of these wars are now homeless, beggars, jobless people. The scars of these wars are still apparent. They leave a bitter taste. So many dreams came true in this country and yet so many nightmares seem to haunt it too.
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