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Personal Narrative: Life In The Concentration

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Personal Narrative: Life In The Concentration
Hundreds of people wearing clothes that looks as if they are striped pajamas, all have some kind of numbers that looks as if it is tattooed on their wrist, and people collapsing from dehydration and starvation. Not a single smile on anyone's face but on these ruthless people that looks as if they are actual soldiers, pointing guns at the people's heads and gunshots going off with a loud thud of the now dead human being. The place looks like it could be a prison but worse and more deadly. There are no buildings unless you count these places that look like cottages but only have bunk beds with no blankets or pillows. Not a single sign of happiness in the environment but, only a sign of death and despair.
My topic is about the life in the concentration

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