The call of a seabird. The sound of a fish leaping from the water. The stillness of the mist that can be seen on the distant mountains and the clouds they appear to be holding up. The redness of the western sunset illuminated on the water’s surface. Again a fish leaps from the water.
Never-changing sights and sounds from ancient times. It feels as if people didn’t make a city here in order to live, but rather they came to live in the already existing space. The wind passing through preserves the natural direction and strength of the existing mountains marked with vibrant emerald green. Then the rippling surface of the water changes from red to a slightly dark blue, and you no longer can see into the sea that was just remarkably transparent. This is the twilight of Mihoseki. (Shimane, Japan)
Those are the kinds of words that can’t be expressed through things like events, music, and live concerts. I think undoubtedly like a heartbeat that things like shrines, darkness, trees surrounding a temple, stars, light, sounds, songs, traditional music, beautiful lyrics, taiko drums, silence, breathing, pulsation, and the voice of gods are divine because they can’t be expressed.
Dancing at an illuminated main shrine building, singing, heartbeats, and those kinds of sounds made my soul tremble.
And with reasons even unbeknown to me, I burst into tears at Takehara Pistol’s, “Forever Young.”
Nothing could be done about the tears pouring down my cheeks at, “Amazing Grace…”
It was probably the first time in my life to cry in public from listening to a song.
I think various thoughts, my way of living, and the past started to whirlpool inside of me from hearing that true voice.
On my way home, I looked up and the whole sky was glittering with stars.
