Leaving The Corcoran Gallery, I was amazed at the emotions it stirred in me. This trip made me rethink my earlier stance on Sontag. Before I had felt that there were other points of view besides those of a “spectator or coward.” Now however, I believe that in war photography there are only the two options. I had never actually turned away from a photograph the way some of those images made me. The dead Taliban insurgent, with a clear bullet wound in his head, made me do that. As did the woman with Napalm burns from Vietnam. Even those that I didn’t turn away from, such as shot down an Israeli sniper rifle sight, or the wedding of the Marine with the horrible wounds, I felt like a spectator. I felt like I was watching something I shouldn’t. I had this feeling of guilt and shame, watching something I shouldn’t, watching a world I neither belonged to or was welcome in. I felt like a spectator, someone who is using the lives of others as an amusement, and I felt sick about it. Still, when I was just describing the various images, they all jumped back into my mind. This I believe is the strength of photography. Like Sontag said, the power of the image, as the basic unit of memory, is the most powerful of all. I was able to empathize with those photographs, and keep them with me better than I could with a text or a video. The stark unchanging nature of the photos did something that other mediums rarely do, they made me connect on a deep level with the subject. That is the ultimate power of photographs. However, they need captioning or else the real story can be hidden, and the images can be used by any one for any purpose, as Sontag reflects on as well. However, when used correctly photographs are an amazing tool in the hands of historians and researchers.