John Hughes died. How he helped me through the teenage years.
August 6th is always a weird date. I spend so many hours every year, thinking about Hiroshima. Thinking about the bomb, detonating 600 meters up in the air, taking about 100 000 people with it, most of them instantly, some of them later on. I wonder what it was like when it hit at 8:15 in the morning. The funniest girl in Hiroshima, the most handsome guy gone together in a blinding light. The ugly, the fat, the wise, the young the old, the mothers carrying their newborn, siblings fighting over a favorite toy, the ones who were eating, the ones cheating on their math test, the ones on swings, the ones gardening, the ones in the market, the ones having tea. 100 000 lives to end in a flash. And how horrible for the folks of Nagasaki, reading about Hiroshima in the papers only to experience it first hand 3 days later. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
August 6th. What a terrible, terrible day.
A good thing happened yesterday though. Sonia Sotomayor!
