On May 19th – the birthday of the President of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam – it was an occasion for each of us to express our gratitude and respect for the great leader of our nation, President Ho Chi Minh. On this occasion, our school organized a field trip for representatives from each class to visit the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and the Presidential Palace historical site. And I was fortunate enough to be on that list. For me, this was an incredibly enriching trip, igniting my love for my homeland and becoming a driving force to overcome all difficulties in life. That day, the clear blue sky, the warm sunshine, and the chirping of birds filled me with excitement and anticipation. Looking at my classmates, I saw that everyone was radiant and full of expectation. At exactly 7:30 AM, the bus departed from the school to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. Upon arrival, I was overwhelmed by the vast and solemn atmosphere of the historic Ba Dinh Square. The lush green bamboo groves rustled in the wind, as if recounting the life of the nation's revered leader. People from all over the country lined up neatly, all dressed immaculately and maintaining a solemn demeanor. That day, we wore our neat school uniforms: crisp white shirts, clean black trousers, and bright red scarves prominently displayed on our chests. Our simple white sneakers were spotlessly clean. I also wore a black hat, but respectfully removed it at the guide's reminder to show my reverence while visiting the Mausoleum. We were also reminded to maintain order, walk softly, and not speak loudly to preserve the solemn atmosphere. Stepping inside, the space became quiet with soft lighting, a stark contrast to the scorching sun outside Ba Dinh Square. The atmosphere was so solemn that I could clearly hear my own heartbeat. Uncle Ho lay there, serene and gentle, as if in a peaceful sleep after years of sacrifice for the nation. Uncle Ho's rosy face and his hands gently placed over his chest filled me with even more emotion and reverence. At that moment, my nose stung, and tears welled up in my eyes from the sacred emotion that was difficult to express in words. Leaving the Mausoleum, we continued our tour of the Presidential Palace historical site. Along the way, our guide told us many touching stories about President Ho Chi Minh's simple life. What moved me most was the stilt house where he lived – a simple wooden house with only a few small rooms. Inside were simple mementos: his personal bed, a set of work desk and chair, and a wardrobe containing a few faded khaki clothes. It's hard to believe that a President of the country could live so simply! The guide also mentioned that Uncle Ho always lived frugally, was close to the people, and dedicated his entire life to the nation. Hearing these stories, I felt even more love and admiration for him. Uncle Ho's fish pond, teeming with fish like grass carp, common carp, tilapia, and other species, and the rows of trees he planted himself, remain lush and green year-round. I felt as if Uncle Ho was still there, strolling in the garden, reading the newspaper under the trees, or feeding the fish every afternoon. Afterward, we visited the Ho Chi Minh Museum, which helped me understand more about Uncle Ho's arduous yet incredibly noble revolutionary life. Black and white photographs, handwritten letters, and everyday items told a touching story about a great man. Before leaving, the whole group took souvenir photos outside the museum to preserve the beautiful memories of that memorable trip. At the end of the trip, I felt more mature. I realized that happiness doesn't lie in luxurious material possessions, but in love for humanity and dedication to the country. "I told myself I must study hard and cultivate good morals so that in the future I can contribute to building my homeland, worthy of the great sacrifices of Uncle Ho and the generations of our forefathers."

Part 6: You are going to read four extracts from articles in which architects discuss their profession. For questions 37 – 40, choose from the architects (A – D). The architects may be chosen more than once. Mark your answers on the separate answer sheet. The nature of architecture Four architects talk about their profession A. What continues to fascinate me about architecture is that, among the applied arts, it is uniquely capable of recalibrating our perception of the world we inhabit. Yet, deeply attached though I am to buildings, I would never argue that every structure merits preservation. Buildings are, by their very nature, vulnerable: weather, neglect, changing patterns of use and the sheer passage of time all conspire to erode them. Nor, frankly, are all buildings worth rescuing from obsolescence. Architectural failure is seldom the result of deliberate negligence; rather, it stems from the near impossibility of anticipating every spatial, social and practical consequence before a building is actually occupied. A design that appears coherent on paper may prove disappointingly inhospitable in practice. Looking ahead, architecture will have to become far less indulgent about its environmental impact. Our assumptions about comfort, energy consumption and material permanence are being revised at speed, and the question of how buildings perform ecologically will no longer be peripheral. Energy efficiency, once treated as a technical afterthought, is set to become one of the discipline’s defining concerns. B. The demands modern life places on buildings differ radically from those of earlier periods, and this means that the preservation of heritage architecture cannot be treated as an unquestionable virtue. Communities must make discriminating judgements about which buildings continue to serve a genuine civic, cultural or practical purpose. The same principle applies to new architecture. However striking a building may be externally, its first obligation is to enhance the lives of those who occupy it. A façade may be visually arresting, but that achievement becomes hollow if the people inside are made uncomfortable by poor ventilation, excessive heat or a misconceived arrangement of space. I am also wary of romanticising architectural creativity. Unlike the painter or sculptor, the architect is constrained by the client’s brief, regulatory frameworks, budgets and the mundane but crucial realities of use. Personal expression, so central to other art forms, is therefore necessarily circumscribed. Public judgement, meanwhile, has become instantaneous. Digital platforms allow reactions to be circulated before a building is even complete, and this accelerated scrutiny will inevitably influence architectural decision-making in the decades to come. C. Architecture may have originated in the elementary human need for shelter, but it has long since become one of the most visible expressions of collective identity. A building does not merely occupy a site; it interprets, contests or reinforces the culture around it. For that reason, design should be rooted in a sensitive understanding of place, memory and social meaning. At its best, architecture is unquestionably a form of art: it gives aesthetic coherence to its surroundings while also deepening our understanding of the past. To allow significant buildings to decay is to sever ourselves from an accumulated store of architectural intelligence. Even structures often dismissed as unsuccessful deserve attention, since they reveal the limits of ambition as much as its achievements. Their shortcomings remind us that architectural perfection is an illusion. Unlike designers of mass-produced objects, architects rarely have the luxury of testing a full-scale prototype before committing their ideas to reality. Consequently, errors of judgement, proportion or use are not merely possible; they are, at times, unavoidable. D. When I consider buildings that are widely condemned, or that plainly fail the people who use them, I often detect the imprint of an architect who has mistaken self-expression for professional entitlement. Such buildings tend to privilege formal bravura over local context, daily experience and human need. I do not deny that architecture belongs, at least partly, to the realm of art; but to treat it chiefly as a vehicle for individual artistic display is to misunderstand its ethical purpose. The user must remain the central consideration. Architects are entrusted with the rare opportunity to shape environments in which people live, work, move, gather and remember. That responsibility requires humility as much as imagination. This will not change. What will change, however, is the pressure exerted by global conditions. As populations increase and land, materials and energy become more contested, architecture will have to respond more explicitly to planetary limits. Rising temperatures, greenhouse gas emissions and the need to use resources more sparingly will increasingly determine not only how buildings look, but how they are conceived from the outset.

Which architect: • has a similar opinion to D regarding future influences on architecture? 37 [ ] • shares an opinion with A on whether architecture should be preserved? 38 [ ] • expresses a different view from the other three on whether architecture is art? 39 [ ] • has a different opinion to B on the most important factor to consider when designing a building? 40 [ ]