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There is lot of time in transit- the cab to the airport, the flight into Tokyo, the flight north, waiting for co-workers, the rental car desk, the police station for a press pass, the drive south. Days in transit. And then you're driving towards the coast - Japanese forests and rolling coastal hills, quiet, serene, impending. - You come around a corner in the road. Everything changes so damn suddenly. Destruction, void, shapeless masses, worthlessness spans as far as the eye can see. The scene is blurry and hard to focus.
Destroyed store front, Kesennuma.
Second floor of an office building, 3.7 miles from the ocean, in Rikuzentakata.
Fourth floor of the hospital in Minamisanriku.
View from the rooftop of a seaside apartment complex, Minamisanriku
In every town we visited, slow moving teams of search-and-rescue workers walked quietly through the piles of rubble. Some were police crews, other volunteers, firefighters or members of the army. In the first days, they moved urgently across the landscape, hoping to find survivors or other signs of hope - but as the days stretched on, it appeared to become more about going through the motions. Crews moved slower, put less effort into crouching, shoveling, lifting up debris. Their motions seemed to say, 'yes, we've canvassed the area, there's nothing left - bring in the bulldozers.'