Pull the car over on the sidewalk—you won’t be long. You’ll need one thousand yen to buy a paper “lantern” to decorate the grave. White for someone who died this year, multicolored if your spirits need less guidance to find their way back to their world. The lanterns are six-sided, pyramid-like, buckets on a stick. Green, then magenta, then yellow, turquoise, red, and deep purple. Some are flecked in gold, all have something in kanji written on one panel; they have small horned tabs and accordion dangles, and there should be many at each gravestone, one for every visitor, every ancestor gone. When you have chosen one and tucked it in, neaten the sticks around the gravestone, get some water in a bucket and ladle it over the top of the stone to make sure your family is clean and not thirsty. Pray, bow, and then, “let’s go.” THIS BROKEN, IRRADIATED tombstone I am kneeling in front of is from a temple in Nakajima, one of ten temples in that perished town that was directly beneath the explosion; it was recovered very near the spot where the cenotaph in the Peace Park stands now.
What do You think about Hiroshima In The Morning (2010)?
