VOSHN 2

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="001"><tr><td class="etesti">001</td><td class="edate">On the night of August 5<sup>th</sup>, 1945</td><td class="eage">19 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>There was a great number of shooting stars.</td></tr></table><table summary="haikei"><tr><td class="bg" background="../../photo/img102.jpg"><div class="large"><div style="position:absolute;Right:10px;top:10px;"><marquee direction="down" height="300"><marquee direction="left" scrollamount=8><font color="#FFFAFA" size="2">*</font></marquee><marquee direction="left" scrollamount=13><font color="#FFFAFA" size="1">*</font></marquee><marquee direction="left" scrollamount=6><font color="#FFFAFA" size="2">*</font></marquee><marquee direction="left" scrollamount=6><font color="#FFFAFA" size="1">*</font></marquee><marquee direction="left" scrollamount=12><font color="#FFFAFA" size="3">*</font></marquee></marquee></div><p>It was the night before the bombing of Hiroshima.  I was coming from my parents' home in Kure back to my boarding house in Hiroshima.</p><p>At Hiroshima Station I ran into Mr. Homma, a prosecutor for the Public Prosecutor's Office, where I also worked.</p><p>He said, "I feel somewhat weird tonight.  So I will walk you to your boarding house."</p><br><p>He kindly walked me from the station all the way up to my boarding house.</p><p>On the way I saw a great number of shooting stars, one after another, in the dark sky.</p><br><p>The shooting stars and Mr. Homma's words, "I feel somewhat weird tonight.  So weird," are still vividly impressed on my mind.</p></div></td></tr></table></body>