A taxi driver in Hiroshima keeps his daughter's graduation photo on the dashboard. It's a reminder of the choice that transformed their relationship. Years ago, when she was young, she told him something that pierced through everything: "I remember mom reading to me. I remember grandma cooking. I don't remember you." He was a well-paid engineer then, working late nights and weekends, but her words made him quit and become a cab driver so he could control his hours and be present for what remained of her childhood. His family thought he was foolish to walk away from security and status, yet his definitive "no" to whether he has regrets is immediate: "Money comes and goes. Time only goes."
