Today, walking home from the grocery store with crusty bread, yogurt and fancy honey, we saw a new glass-fronted building that had what looked like a tall-ceilinged lecture room with a dry-erase board covered in large kanji, with perhaps two dozen Japanese people gazing at the presentation intently.  K. happened to see the board through the windows, frowned, and announced that what was written clearly read, “They must be killed”.

We couldn’t cross the street fast enough.