We aren't allowed into the zone, so former resident Kunitomo Tokuzawa is taking a camera for us to chart his trip back home with his mother.
Two hours later, everyone returns with their carefully selected belongings. They're allowed to bring out just one bagful, measuring seventy centimeters by seventy centimeters.
I brought back my wife's cooking recipes. Also photographs and pictures.
My grandfather's remains and ashes.
It's very sad and unfair.
Kunitomo returns with the camera and a glimpse into an abandoned world.
Good to see you. Okay, well, come and tell me all about it.
Alright then, good morning everyone. The officials got off the bus and measured the radiation. Once they'd checked, it was safe. We got off. Right now, I'm in the evacuation zone. The road has subsided and a crack has opened up. There's no sign of any people.
Right, now I'm going to go inside my house. The inside of the house was extremely hot. It was hot. The things in the fridge are completely rotten. It smells awful. Our cat has gone. I don't know when this water is from. How many months ago I wonder.
When I went up to the second floor, because my own room was on the second floor, naturally that moment brought back the most memories. My heart hurt. That's how I felt. Oh well.
Even with all this, they have held on. Amazing! They're healthy. All that's left.
We were glad to return home, even if it was just for an hour. But I won't return there any more most likely, even if the restrictions are lifted. As for living there, it's a bit too much.