‘The words that did come to mind were lines of poetry from Teresa Mei Chuc’s ‘The Bomb Shelter,’ from Saigon to Ghouta, When bombs are exploding outside, It means that there are implosions. Vibrations travel through air and liquid. My amniotic fluid is imprinted with airplanes Dropping bombs and screams and fire. In the bomb shelter in Saigon, My father teaches my two-year-old brother French. “Je m’appelle Chuc Nai Dat.” “Je m’appelle…”‘ —Tim Alsiofi
Tim Alsiofi’s unflinching document of people sheltering in a city under siege reaffirms the importance of transparency and immediacy in documenting crucially important scenes of unfolding history through moving images. —Herb Shellenberger
