The faces gaze out the windows of the factory owned by German businessman Oskar Schindler near the old Jewish quarter in Krakow, Poland. 

Unlike a similar set of black-and-white portraits, which grimly line the barracks of the nearby Auschwitz concentration camp, these are survivors. Some are even smiling. 

Almost two decades after Steven Spielberg filmed "Schindler's List" in the picturesque university town, the Schindler's Factory museum opened in 2010. Despite the feel-good photos of the former workers and the interesting shots of a bundled-up Spielberg directing in the city, the museum best succeeds at drawing visitors to absorb up close an atrocity that many are more comfortable experiencing from a distance. 

The museum doesn't dwell on Schindler, who protected more than 1,100 Jews from the Nazis by employing them in dubious war industry projects. Instead,Tulle Strapless Hot Sale Ball Gown Wedding dresses with Tea-Length Pleated ... the exhibit is all about the community he helped save – a once-vibrant Jewish community facing extermination. 

The permanent exhibition "Krakow Under Nazi Occupation 1939-1945" is housed in the factory's former administrative building, where Schindler also lived. Jews had been a part of Krakow life since arriving in the 13th century. In 1939, when the Nazis invaded Poland, about 259,000 people lived in Krakow.Let's Buy La Femme dress Right Now!!! A quarter – 68,482 – were Jewish. 

The Jews were driven out, with at least 2,000 sent to the death camp in nearby Auschwitz. Today, local guides say several hundred Jews live in Krakow, a tiny fraction of what once as. 

While rich with historical facts, the Schindler museum excels at creating an immersive experience of a subject that for many is mentally and emotionally unfathomable. How could so many have been murdered in the middle of the 20th century by one of the most modern and educated nations in the world? 

After viewing gas masks and a full-size battle tank, we entered a room tiled in swastikas, with a red Nazi flag hanging unabashedly at the entrance.What exactly is a Pick-up gown? While it was sickening to view, I experienced a visceral sense of the saturation of the Nazi symbol in areas controlled by the regime. Schindler's Factory, which discusses the Germans' suppression of a free press, allows photography. When later visiting an underground bunker in Berlin, we were forbidden from taking pictures for fear of swastika images inciting hate. The symbol is rigorously controlled in Germany, with even museum exhibits limited on how many can be shown. 

In one area of the Schindler exhibit, a soundtrack of barking dogs plays with such menace that I could imagine the dripping fangs of a German shepherd. In a room describing the quarry work camp located in the city, the floor transitioned from old city cobblestone to uneven pebbles that I could feel through my sandals.Anyone with a mori lee bridesmaid dresses? While looking at Jewish prayer shawls, a soaring song in Hebrew sounded to me like cries of mourning. 

The museum examines indignities both large and small. I was struck by the photos that showed how early on, Jewish men were shorn of their side locks and beards by occupying soldiers. 

The museum includes handwritten remembrances of Krakow by Holocaust survivors, including filmmaker Roman Polanski. Another interesting side note is the part of the exhibit dedicated to the late Pope John Paul II, who entered a clandestine Krakow seminary in 1942. He later became the first pope to visit a synagogue. 

But not all is so intense. I was charmed by an exhibit of children's wooden dolls, which included an intricate Russian palace.Shop the latest a-line dress on the world's largest fashion site. Another corner showed a replica of a home with rustic bunk beds heaped with blankets. Wedding dresses and jewelry also were interesting to see. 

Near the end of the exhibit, we passed through Schindler's office, where his typewriter sat on his desk along with a pad of paper. His employee roster, or Schindler's list, is also on display, along with a collection of the enamel pots and pans made at the factory. 

The museum also focuses on the role of work – how Jews, living on a few hundred calories a day – were forced to labor without pay, often supplying the war effort that aimed to destroy them. 

To enter the final room, I walked over a wobbling bridge that seemed to represent the uncertainty of life after the war. I was moved nearly to tears by an artistic rendering of regret. Large pillars printed with first-hand accounts of Krakow citizens rotated slowly in an array of languages. 

A woman told of walking to share her ration of food with a starving friend, only to realize she had consumed it on the way. A maid for a Jewish family described holding their valuables for safekeeping but feeling too scared to visit them in the ghetto. A neighbor said she failed to rescue a toddler in the snow who had momentarily escaped the sight of the Nazis seizing his parents.