Yesterday--that was June 23--marked the day the politicians said the war was over in Okinawa. As politicians often do, they lied.
When leftover bombs explode outside kindergartens, killing toddlers...
When leftover bombs maim young men who thought they were peacetime construction workers with 40 years of work-in-the-daytime/play-in-the-nighttime ahead of them instead of years of blindness and wondering how to make a living in construction with only one arm...
When a tourist picks up a coral-encrusted shell and discovers--at airport security--that he is holding an unexploded hand grenade...
When these things happen, the war is not over.
It's over when the people who brought you the war clean up after themselves.
Okinawa Looks Like This
Peaceful: a beautiful place for a walk
自己紹介
- Chura
- Born and raised in the USA (NJ), I’ve spent most of my adult life in Japan. One of my favorite places in Japan is Okinawa. To me, Okinawa is a land of stories and an island of music, magic and mystery. The music is shima-uta, songs sung to the rhythm of a three-stringed lute called a sanshin. The magic is in the colors of land, sea and sky. The mystery? Mystery begins where the line between legend and verifiable human memories begins to blur. I am a member of the Archaeological Institute of America, chapter chief of a sanshin study society, and a founding member of the Marine Culture Research Association of Okinawa.