Hiroshima is a city caught in overlapping temporalities: home to over a million people, yet marked by historic catastrophe, it stands as a symbol of both devastation and fragile hope for peace. What began as a visit in 2006 to see an exhibition of Tsuguharu Foujita turned into a quiet exploration of the city with a camera in hand, capturing buildings, animals, passersby and streetscapes, yet everything seems touched by the past; even the buzz of cicadas, a sign of summer, takes on a more solemn meaning. The afterword notes that cicadas live underground for years and that many people are still buried underground in Hiroshima; each time the sound of the cicadas echoes through the air, the photographer feels a wish for peace and a consolation for the spirits of the dead. The book opens with a poem by Tamiki Hara.