Something we haven’t seen in Hiroshima, eighty years after the horror

“You haven’t seen anything in Hiroshima, nothing,” says the man from Hiroshima to his French lover as she embraces him, feeling his skin burning, now rough like sand. “I saw everything, everything,” she disagrees. “I saw the hospital, I’m sure of it. How could I not see it?” But he retorts, dryly, “You didn’t see the Hiroshima hospital.” She insists on recounting all she saw at the Hiroshima museum, people walking among photographs, numerous images, reconstructions, and explanations, for lack of anything else, she says. The burnt, twisted iron, vulnerable like flesh, human body parts still fresh in their suffering, and whole locks of hair the women discovered fallen in the morning. “No,” the man asserts, “you haven’t seen anything in Hiroshima, nothing.”