写真・構成：岩崎量示
The English translation follows after the Japanese text.
〈不安な春に、崩れない橋〉
5年前の今日、2020年3月24日の糠平湖は、まだ冬のような白一色の雪景色に包まれていた。
音更川の岸辺には、大きく割れた青氷の板。まだ30～40センチはありそうだった。黒い水面が開けているのが北国の春を感じさせている。
この年は不吉な雰囲気が世の中を覆いつつあった。新型コロナウイルスの感染が広がり、まだ先行きがまったく見通せない時期だった。
そんなときも、タウシュベツ川橋梁はいつもと変わらない姿でそこに立っていた。崩れそうだと長年言われながらも崩れない橋の姿に、どこか落ち着きをもらえていた気がする。
Five years ago today, on March 24, 2020, Lake Nukabira was still blanketed in a white winter landscape. Along the banks of the Otofuke River, large slabs of blue ice had cracked apart, each still about 30–40 centimeters thick. The dark water peeking through hinted that spring in northern Japan was finally on its way.
That year, a sense of dread was spreading across the world. COVID-19 infections were rising, and there was absolutely no telling how things would turn out.
Yet in the midst of it all, the Taushubetsu Bridge stood unchanged, just as it always had. People had been saying for ages that it was about to collapse, yet it never quite did. Seeing it remain so stubbornly intact gave me a small sense of reassurance in uncertain times.
Ryoji Iwasaki