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Remembering Hiroshima

If you make a thousand paper cranes, your wish will come true. Sadako, a 12-year-old Japanese girl, had only one wish - to go on living.

If you make a thousand paper cranes, your wish will come true. Sadako, a 12-year-old Japanese girl, had only one wish - to go on living. A toddler when the Hiroshima bomb fell in 1945, Sadako had survived and thrived for a time, becoming one of the strongest runners in her school. But the long-term effects of radiation caught up with her a decade later when she was diagnosed with leukemia.

At the hospital, the legend of the cranes kept her going, folding the origami birds night and day. Sadako died before she reached a thousand cranes. Her classmates folded the rest. Her story spread throughout Japan, and the cranes became a symbol of hope and peace.

Sadako's statue is part of the Children's Peace Memorial in Hiroshima, and on Aug. 6, the 60th anniversary of the atomic bomb attack, thousands of people from around the world will honour the memory of Sadako and the millions of other victims by placing paper cranes on the memorial.

As about 30 Sunshine Coasters struggled to fold our own paper cranes last Sunday at St. Hilda's Church in Sechelt, peace walker Derek Walker Youngs told us the story of Sadako. Along with photojournalist Carolyn Affleck, Walker Youngs will walk into Hiroshima carrying paper cranes from the Coast.

It was an afternoon of fumbling creativity and reflection. Holding our finished birds, we walked in silence around St. Hilda's labyrinth. The summer sun warm on our bent heads, we wished for peace before depositing our cranes in the Hiroshima-bound pile. There weren't a thousand. But they were our voice.