I easily found the bridge that was the intended target of the bomb, left largely intact that morning, a random crosswind affecting the bomb drop. I place my hand on the original pillar of the bridge that still stands today, sentinel to a horror the world had never seen before or since. I take photos of the iconic bomb dome, a building that somehow remained standing when everything else was flattened in the blast.

I had to search for this marker indicating the precise location where the bomb detonated. The stone monument is not that large and is rather unassuming, especially considering what it commemorates. People ride by on bicycles, cars drive down the street. There is a parking garage next door. No tourists are here, just me.