there's no escaping. The beauty falls away to the fact it's a prison that's inescapable. The road on either side led to hostility and the mountains were impenetrable."

For her, to return this year is of particular importance - and not just because of the 75th anniversary and the parallels she sees between the internment and the Trump administration's proclamations. Nakamaru's grandmother, Miyoko Mikasa, whom everyone called Sunny - a nickname she received at the camp where she was interned for her friendly demeanour, died last summer. Sunny, for various reasons never shared stories of her incarceration at Poston camp in Arizona.

With both grandparents deceased, Nakamaru realises there's a lot she'll never know.

"I had a complicated relationship with my grandfather," she says. "And I feel like I have clarity[about his experience] now, maybe because we're in a time that is so terrifyingly reminiscent of what he experienced. I can ask myself, 'What would I have done?'"

Nakamaru moved to Los Angeles months ago. Growing up in a small town in the Midwest, where hers was the only family of Japanese origin, she faced discrimination and racial taunts. For her, to have access to a larger, more outspoken Japanese American community in Los Angeles has been empowering.

"I can't speak for families on the West Coast, but people in the Midwest almost all didn't know their families' stories," she says.

History, she reflects, is always coloured by recollections, inaccurate because humans are often so. "The real truth of the camps is gone. Our memory changes history," she says.

Nakamaru attended a