Hexagonal Sky, Strawberry Light

Sometimes I suddenly feel like breathing
a different kind of air,
so I extend my journey
to a town a little further away.

In the middle of the city of Kyoto,
there is a mysterious place
that opens up unexpectedly.

Stepping one block off the Karasuma street,
you find yourself at 'Rokkaku-do'.
It was a quiet temple precinct,
as if a bubble of time
had stopped right there.

Looking up,
the hexagonal roof
frames the sky
like a large paper umbrella.

When I take a deep breath,
I smell the deep green scent
of old wood mixed
with the incense drifting
from the main hall.

If I cast my eyes to my feet,
there is a round stone sitting alone in the center.
It is commonly known as the 'Navel Stone',
said to mark the center of Kyoto.
As I gaze at its mysterious presence,
I feel as if the heartbeat
from deep within the earth is being transmitted to me,
and the tension in my shoulders suddenly melts away.

I stand before the main hall
and quietly press my hands together.
When I visit the gods or Buddhas of a new land,
I make it a point to say in my heart,
'I am intruding on this land.
I have come to pay my respects.'
When I do that,
I feel like I can get along
with the air of an unfamiliar place.

In the temple grounds,
I also encountered a lovely fortune slip.
A fortune slip in the shape of a small, adorable pigeon.
The excitement in my hands when I gently pull and open it
is an irreplaceable feeling
that never changes, no matter how old I get.

Standing by the pond,
the wind gently combs
the hair of the weeping willow.
Rustle, rustle.
The plump whiteness of the feathers
of the pigeons playing in the precinct.
In the silence where time seemed to have stopped,
my senses
slowly opened up
like turning a page of thin paper.

A secret room opened by small scissors

Even after leaving the temple,
I felt as if I were still in the continuation of a dream.

Drawn as if invited,
I headed to a small shop
that keeps the strawberry light burning all year round.

What was gently placed before me
was not so much something to eat,
but a strawberry mille-feuille
that looked like a beautiful work of art.
An elegant gray ribbon
is carefully tied around it.

Accompanying it were
scissors with delicate openwork,
looking like an antique.
I place my fingers on the metal handles
and set the blades against the ribbon.
--Snip.
A faint, yet direct sound reaches my heart,
and the knot comes undone.
It was at that very moment.
The sweet scent of the trapped strawberries
was released softly.
Although invisible to the eye,
it is as if I am being wrapped
in a gentle air that is like a pale crimson color.
The strawberries in today's mille-feuille
are said to be 'Beni Hoppe' from local Kyoto.

When I insert my fork,
the pie crust makes a 'crunch'
light sound
and crumbles into vertical layers.
I am moved by the fact that
there is a beautiful order in the pastry,
like architecture or sculpture.

When I bring it to my mouth,
after the sweetness of the cool cream,
the dense juice of the Beni Hoppe
bursts on my tongue.

And,
what made me feel an even deeper flavor
was the magic of the caramelization
applied to the surface of the pie.
It is not just gently sweet,
but fragrant and somewhat bittersweet,
and that bitter aftertaste
makes the refreshing sweetness of the strawberries
even deeper and more refined.

Sweet, tart, and a little bittersweet.

It felt as if I were reading a short, high-quality story
on my tongue.
Strawberries gathered from production areas all over Japan
change into their most beautiful forms here
to brighten someone's day.

While sensing the presence of such gentle
and slightly solemn craftsmanship,
I gently embraced
a feeling of peaceful happiness.

Thank you for reading this far. I hope you all have a wonderful coffee time too (⁎ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈⁎)