Hiroshima is a city that holds a complex narrative, particularly in the context of its portrayal in media. I had high expectations for Christopher Nolan's film Oppenheimer, largely celebrated as a major cinematic achievement of 2023. Yet, after three hours in the theater, I found myself feeling disappointed and unfulfilled.

I might be perceived as lacking taste, but I found Barbie to be far more enjoyable. My anticipation for Oppenheimer stemmed from my previous visit to Hiroshima, where I hoped the film would explore the catastrophic consequences of the atomic bomb and illuminate the tragedy that followed.

In an age where media shapes perceptions, I felt that the film squandered a significant opportunity. It lacked any depiction of Hiroshima or its victims, instead opting for an excessive focus on political themes and lengthy hearings that left me bored.

However, this piece is not a film critique. Rather, I felt compelled to recount my experience in Hiroshima, a city that serves as a poignant reminder of a painful chapter in history and the collective responsibility we share to prevent such atrocities from occurring again.

Despite its tragic past, Hiroshima's initial appearance is that of a thriving urban center. Surrounded by six rivers, it's often called the "City of Water." The modern landscape is characterized by broad streets and shopping centers adorned with vibrant sale banners. Amidst the skyscrapers, green parks provide a welcome escape for the million residents. Trams navigate the bustling streets, while office workers hurry back from lunch breaks.

Yet, I was acutely aware that this vibrant city bears a heavy legacy that cannot be overlooked.

As World War II was drawing to a close in Europe, tensions between Japan and the United States intensified. The bombing of Pearl Harbor set the stage for even greater devastation.

On August 6, 1945, at 8:15 AM, history was forever altered when the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. The explosion obliterated 90% of the city, with an estimated 80,000 lives lost immediately, and countless others affected by radiation in the ensuing days, weeks, and years. Just three days later, a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, resulting in an additional 40,000 fatalities.

During my Christmas visit to Japan, I felt it was essential to pay my respects at the Peace Memorial Park and Museum, despite the somber timing.

I discovered that before the bombing, Hiroshima was a bustling industrial hub rich in culture, filled with historic shrines, temples, and gardens. Its military significance made it a prime target, housing bases and munitions factories vital to Japan's war efforts.

The atomic bomb, laden with uranium and explosives, was detonated 600 meters above the city, unleashing an explosion equivalent to 15,000 to 20,000 tons of TNT. It’s a staggering concept that my museum tour illuminated.

The Peace Memorial Museum offered a harrowing experience. In one section, we saw remnants of belongings — a woman's kimono, a boy's melted lunchbox, newspapers from that fateful day, and twisted metal and glass. A watch was frozen at 8:15 AM, forever mar