My first time in Japan. I arrived in Kumamoto in the evening, alone. The hotel front desk spoke no English, and Google Translate was doing its best. Between the three of us, they eventually determined that I was looking for somewhere to eat and pointed me in the right direction. How I managed to order what followed remains something of a mystery — a multi-course Japanese dinner that kept arriving. So much food.

The following morning, the castle. Three years after the earthquake, the grounds still bore the evidence — rubble, cranes, and scaffolding surrounding the structure, restoration still underway. I explored the grounds and moved on, on foot through the city the way I always do. A shopping arcade, umbrellas already out, a steady sprinkle keeping everyone moving with purpose.

And then the sky opened entirely.

Torrential. Glorious. The arcade transformed — umbrellas merging and separating, trams carving through the haze, figures pressing forward without a moment's hesitation. A tsunami warning had been issued. Nobody stopped. Neither did I.

Seven images from a single storm. Each one a different note from the same extraordinary hour.