Replacement Truck Toolbox Locks

Each tragedy leaves for memory images of desolation, his body count, with tears, of desperation in the search, its mapping of destruction and despair. But sometimes a small image portrayed as any other events in the middle of hell. That happens with this picture: a photo album on the boardwalk in Toyama, wet, with some photographs taken away by the fury of the sea, but miraculously has not been swallowed by the mud. More than the boats tossed by the waves or the burning houses swept away by the tide and ramming roads or railways, rather than the mortuary landscapes of the infinite expanse of what was destroyed by the tsunami, more than the ghostly appearance of the central barely nuclear burst no more than the entire personification of the play, the simple lyrical point almost a faded photo album and sad, expressing the certainty, the final heart the suffering of millions of Japanese. Because the album is a lifetime, and broken forever, and forever disconnected from their memories and their handles. All that was your landlord is in those black and white photographs, the memories of his family and childhood, the reconstruction of his ancestors and his life, a physical collection, palpable in his personality, what he lived and felt, and perhaps the owner of this photo album has been swallowed by the sea or be crushed by a lot of irons, or may wander the sprawling forces between the human body by moving away terrified of nuclear power plants around, not knowing that somewhere in what was his city, home to their parents and their children, there is a photo album browsed by the salty wind of the disaster, and soon forgotten lost among tons of debris and trash, useless amongst many other remains of as many lives as it has swept away the earthquake. I can only image more powerful than this photo album to explain and understand the drama of Japan: a photograph of a hand, a hand to dig through the rubble to search for loved ones who do not know where he is, or hand firmly grasping the other hand, of a child or an elder, and try to avert the chaos and the abyss. The same hand that can turn the pages of this album before tossing on the flood of loss.