Kazuyoshi Sasaki visits the boom in the town of Otsuki to speak to his late wife.

She was one of nearly 20,000 people in northeastern Japan who were killed by the earthquake and tsunami that struck on March 11th, 2000 and 11.

Dialing her now defunct cell, he breaks down in tears as he explains to her how he searched for her for days after the disaster.

He goes on to update her on things that have happened in his life.

He's moved out of temporary housing.

Their son is building him a house, and he's lost a bit of weight.

For Sasaki, the phone booth is a source of solace.

This phone booth embraces all of me.

It embraces various people like those affected by the disaster.

It's a place that embraces not only the people who are alive, but also those who have passed away.

That's how I feel.

Sachiko Okawa uses the phone to call her late husband, who she was married to for 44 years.

She asks him what he's been doing since he was swept away all those years ago.

In the tsunami she often brings along her two grandsons so they can also talk to their grandfather on the phone now attracts thousands of visitors from all over Japan.

It is not only used by tsunami survivors, but also by people who have lost relatives to sickness and suicide.

Known as the wind phone, it was built by Haru Sasaki, who created it after he lost his own cousin to cancer a year before the Fukushima disaster.

Mm.