What can be said, which has not been said already, without becoming voyeuristic?

A soft day of mist suited the mood as the bus pulled up near the Genbaku Dome, or Peace Memorial. I can’t describe how sobering I found it to actually see the place which has been seared on the memory through so many images.

Statues and memorials, including the tower clock which stopped at the time of the blast © A. Harrison

With the bomb dropping some 200m away, the dome was not quite the epicentre of the blast. 69% of buildings were totally destroyed, and what remains is twisted metal. Some 80,000 people died that day.

The Peace Gardens are beautiful and lush, with vast expanses of greenery around the statues. A flame burns, not the Eternal Flame of the Unknown Soldier of other memorials, but instead a reminder to all how nuclear weapons still exist. When no nuclear weapons remain, the flame will be extinguished.

The paper crane has also become a symbol of peace. Many visitors bring them, especially the groups of school children I saw singing songs in front of the statue of the Girl of the 1000 cranes. So many paper cranes hung here that from a distance I thought colourful kimonos were for sale.

What struck me most, as I wandered first the grounds and then through the museum, is the gulf which still remains between those who believe in peace and those who make sure wars still happen. So many wanting world peace, but it doesn’t happen.

I could only stay in the museum for a short while. I found it incredibly confronting to see the molten bottles, charred clothes, twisted tricycles, a stopped watch, or horrific photos of the injuries and burns the victims endured.

There were also videos playing of survivors, now in their 80s, talking of their memories of that day. They spoke in such quiet voices, of a world turned black, brown and red. There were no other colours.

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