Tsunaki Kuwashima

One autumn mid-night, the city had awoken.

Behind the closed eyelids, I read a sign and

headed there with my camera in my hand.

Beneath the burning night sky,

I recognized a warm white wall

That someone made it with his thought.

The wall slips my body.

My body slips the wall.

The burning flame seized the night running away.

A rush of cool air went through the city with

the darkness.

The ones in flames were burned to ashes.

They will never be burnt.

They turned to be an evidence of the birth of mass.