VOSHN 287

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="269"><tr><td class="etesti">269</td><td class="edate">August 10<sup>th</sup> to 11<sup>th</sup>, 1945.</td><td class="eage">33 years old at that time</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>I was born to be painter, such a terrible place.</td></tr></table><div class="large"><p>Yes, there were two kinds of victims.  The one was people who had been injured by the direct blast.  Their skin which had not been covered with clothes was burned to be orange color.  There were lots of people who had died and were folded in the river.  I saw this sight above, they looked orange, and their skin was orange.</p><br><p>The other was people who had been burned by fire to be black.  They looked like mud, really a man of mud.  Their figure was such that sky... well, they strangely had knocked their legs up in the sky and they had tried to grasp the sky.  Especially children, well, many children stuck their head in a narrow gutter which was on the one side of the road.  Still the children were smoldering.  I also made a sketch.</p><br><p>In doing so, the most painful thing was that people held out their arms like ghost, their eyes were hollow, and was trembling.  In the front of them I was unwilling to do so.  So I said: "I am very sorry." and made a sketch.  Well, for I wore military uniform nobody got angry at me and let me do so.</p><br><p>Such, a terrible place I sketched.  How unfortunate I was, I thought, for I was born to be painter.  And at the first, I made a sketch feeling this strange smell, watching people who had a grudge in the eyes did not yet dye, or who was burned to be black, or who was burned badly to be only half alive, in the front of every kinds of people.  For I wore military uniform, I could make a sketch.  I thought it was impossible for civic people to do so in such a situation, never.</p><br><p>At that time Mr.Nagai's sickness got worse, he cannot get up.  And I brought my painting at his bedside and showed him it.  He was watching the painting intently for a while.  He wrote a poem on rolled letter paper lying in the bed.</p><br><p>One said: "eyes watching realities are exact but watching fellows are quivering.".....</p><p>"Eyes watching realities are exact but watching fellows are quivering.".....</p></div></body>