The peace ceremony
Hiroshima. A powerful history, and incredible city. I could feel this when I traveled there almost two years ago, but to be there on the 70th anniversary of the bomb dropping was an experience unlike any I've had before, and one I will never forget.
It's an experience that's hard to put into words. And it's always difficult to replicate something experiential, for others and for yourself. So I'm going to try and convey it through images, and written snapshots of the atmosphere from that day.
Everyone at my hostel was going to the ceremony, which started at 8 am. A 30 min train ride to the center of the city from where I was staying, I had planned on waking up at 5:30 to leave around 6, but the other patrons of the hostel had decided 4:30 was the time to rise and shine - noisily. So I awoke with them and started my day, heading out to take pictures of sunrise over the port at Miyajima.
As the sun rose, burning over the horizon, it made the city glow like a dull fire. Later, I watched it die behind the city skyline, leaving the glow of paper lanterns to everyone's attention as they bobbed down the river.
It was a full day, the ranging from moments of reflection, pacifism, anger, and hope. I had the great privilege to digest this emotional arc introspectively, and to also distill the days' events into an article I wrote for OpenCanada (where I had been a production assistant before this trip). From beginning to end, here's the lens I saw the 70th anniversary of the bomb dropping through.