Essay "Impressionistic Political Theory" & Short-Short "Tokugawa Buried Treasure" & Poem

Essay
Impressionistic Political Theory
~Can Looks Change History!?~

(I)

The other day, while watching the debate between the two candidates in the US presidential election, I couldn't help but chuckle as it looked like a playground squabble between children. While it is natural for them to make grand claims about how they will change America if elected, Trump spent several times more time on exaggerated taunts—whether true or false—and Harris responded in kind, meaning it never developed into a high-level debate. For me, environmental issues were the most crucial topic, but that was brushed aside quickly as well. Naturally, they must have judged it to be unpopular and treated it like a hot potato; if that's the case, most of the audience is only interested in themselves, and they are merely detoxing their own frustrations, much like watching a comedian who fires off bizarre ironies. If the public's primary concern is the immediate economy, then environmental issues are naturally relegated to second or third place.

The debate is also a sports event, but like a pro-wrestling show, they pull their punches depending on the audience. Because they don't want to lose the floating voters swayed by self-interest, Harris couldn't press Trump, who denies renewable energy, in front of an American public that produces the most oil and gas in the world. However, the disaster that will befall the American people in ten years is the hell of a boiling America that has become a hotbed for tornadoes and hurricanes.

If winning a shouting match rather than presenting sincere policies earns a better impression from the electorate, then that is the height of ochlocracy, and the future of America likely won't be bright. In the end, the media decides who wins, so even if it's a mud-slinging match, the winner takes all. If such debates sway the presidential election, it means that for the voters, the immediate year or two is what matters, and their children and grandchildren ten or twenty years from now don't matter.

In Japan's case, the fact that the economy comes first is the same. The economy is a pleasure like a drug, and that world is similar to the Old Testament cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. With drugs, one becomes increasingly desensitized, and the dosage keeps increasing. The desire for wealth is the same. However, if the entire planet pursues that, a catastrophe will eventually arrive. Lot, the righteous man, fled the city in sorrow after seeing his wife turn into a pillar of salt when she looked back, still attached to the city of pleasure. If Kennedy were alive, he would probably have said, "Ask not what your country can do for the environment, but ask what you yourselves can do for the environment. Ask what we can do together for the environment."

Whether it's the presidential election or the LDP leadership election, the protagonist remains the "economy." Moreover, if the media makes a fuss, it is inevitable that it will become a show. Watching the LDP leadership election, I worry that if a candidate with plain looks becomes the leader, they won't be able to maintain the administration in the general election that is likely to follow immediately after dissolution (regardless of whether one supports them or not...). Since all candidates make sweeping promises, the voters end up like shoppers in a clothing store. They choose based on visual impression.

The public only learns of a Prime Minister's true ability after they start functioning as Prime Minister; there are countless examples of people who made grand promises beforehand but could not realize them. Also, they often end up strangling themselves in an attempt to realize those promises. If many of the citizens angry about the slush fund scandal were to choose the LDP, it would be more likely if Mr. Koizumi or Mr. Ishiba, who are high in the popularity rankings, were Prime Minister. Since both are inexperienced as Prime Minister, their true abilities are unknown, so voters will choose based on a simple "good impression." For Mr. Koizumi, it is his lineage and looks; for Mr. Ishiba, it is the number of TV appearances and the sympathy vote for having lost the leadership election four times. If floating voters who are indifferent to the policy differences between the LDP and other parties flow to the LDP, it will be because of the leader's good impression.

However, if it comes to which of the two, Mr. Koizumi or Mr. Ishiba, will capture the floating vote, it must be Mr. Koizumi. Most of the unaffiliated voters haven't watched the programs Mr. Ishiba has appeared on so often, so it becomes a battle of appearances. Therefore, if the LDP wants to continue its administration more securely, it has no choice but to choose Mr. Koizumi. Even if the sharp Mr. Motegi or other candidates were to become leader, it would surely be difficult to capture the floating vote in a general election. With plain looks, the "impression" on people who are not enthusiastic about politics is thin. In short, you can think of politicians as being in the same category as idols.

(II)

Not limited to elections, what moves the world is "impression." For a living creature, everything that exists outside its own body becomes an impression through the senses. In other words, the entire living environment can become an impression. Even the lowest organism, if it gets a favorable sensation on its right side, will move toward it, and if it realizes it is food, it will devour it. And that becomes an impression etched into its primitive neural network. Conversely, if it gets an unpleasant sensation on its left side, it will try to escape from it. That is something that causes harm to itself, such as the smell of a natural predator, and it is imprinted as an impression as a memory. These are "good impressions" and "bad impressions" derived from primitive organisms, and they are behavioral guidelines for "choices" that act as instantaneous sensations because they involve the life and death of the individual. The simple reactions of primitive organisms were turned into experience and memory, and after many long years, they became human. And humans, based on those sensations involving life and death, expanded impressions to the realm of preferences, such as likes and dislikes. We walk through life using that as a lamp. If we are struggling in the realm of bad impressions, we strive to escape to the realm of good impressions. And those who cannot escape hang their heads.

Impressions stimulate brain hormones, becoming a heart-throb in the case of a "good impression" and a heart-flutter in the case of a "bad impression." Love at first sight makes the heart throb in an instant through the optic nerve. The Japanese bush warbler gives a good impression to the female with the male's singing, the bird of paradise with the male's elegant dance, and the white-spotted pufferfish with the male's perfect nest-building, and they mate. And people who are not enthusiastic about politics cast their votes based on the party leader's looks. It is because that face falls into the category of a good impression, and they are instinctively and sexually attracted to it. That "impression" governs human behavior can be seen by looking at the looks of the past successive Prime Ministers who were driven from the seat of Prime Minister as if being chased away with stones due to internal strife.

Because they didn't have the sex appeal to gain unwavering popularity from the start of their tenure, even if a petty power struggle called "Ousting So-and-So" occurred within the party, the public would watch coldly, and they would resign while bearing all the responsibility. As long as a Prime Minister is popular, no one thinks to pull their legs, but they bare their fangs when they see they are in a weakened state; surely, if they had good looks, the public would have sympathized a little. It's not quite Cleopatra's nose, but if their nose were 1 centimeter higher and their eyes 0.5 centimeters larger, they might have maintained their seat as an idol and not been dragged down. It means that a politician's looks change history (please complain about this biased opinion to the Mehrabian law, which says that the influence on people is 7% verbal information, 38% auditory information, and 55% visual information).

People decide their daily actions based on "good impressions" and "bad impressions." From small purchases to career choices and major decisions, if impressions are the source of action, then various grades of impressions exist, from petty impressions like "preferences" to grand impressions like "emotion" and "fear," and their nuances also differ by individual. There are those who are moved by Beethoven, and those who are moved by X Japan. If emotion and fear are excitatory actions of the nerves, then "impression" is also merely an excitatory action of the nerves. A good impression is a good excitation of the nerves, and fear is a bad excitation of the nerves. When you see Mr. Koizumi, a good excitation of the nerves occurs to a greater or lesser extent, and when you see a cockroach, a bad excitation of the nerves occurs to a greater or lesser extent. If a man you dislike approaches you and you get goosebumps, that is a bad nerve excitation no different from when you see a cockroach (suddenly, a gender issue).

(III)

However, the only salvation for a man disliked by many women is that there is no accounting for taste. There are women who care about first impressions, and women who don't. If it's good when you get to know them, then all is well. Many "impressions" are formed by the common sense of the society in which one is born. Therefore, it is possible that someone who was not popular in their home country might be popular in a foreign country. For example, in Western society, having large eyes is common, so people with narrower eyes are actually preferred as having oriental almond eyes, and ukiyo-e beauties are also accepted. Conversely, in Japan, narrow eyes are common, so people with large eyes are prized. Taking just the example of a popular woman, Japanese people admire Western-style beauties, and Westerners admire ukiyo-e beauties. Also, regarding tattoos that are popular overseas, in Japan, Edo-style tattoos are thought of as yakuza-like, while abroad they are thought of as cool.

People shed tears watching movies and shed tears when they encounter something scary. Tears are catharsis, a purifying action that calms the excitation of the nerves. Therefore, after tears are shed, it can also be a new starting point in life. There, the nerves cool down, and a new life begins after obtaining emotion or fear. In the past, I despised a friend who said, "My life changed after watching that movie," thinking, "What a shallow person," but now that I have reached this age, I think his words were correct. For a person with little future left, what fills the spirit is only memories of the past, and impressions obtained from emotions, fears, and mistakes are etched into the heart and remain firmly. And that is because one can read, like a historian, that they have exerted some kind of effect on the life that followed. Other memories are as vague as a plain member of the Diet.

The impressions that remain in memory are like Monet's "Impression, Sunrise." Monet did not depict the port of Le Havre, France, realistically; while looking at the actual scene, he extracted only the "impressions" burned into his eyes in real time, fleshed out the whole with the "mental images" that also welled up in his heart, and finished it into a hazy work. That is the exact opposite of the act of visiting a landscape we encountered in the past, remembering it while comparing it, and feeling nostalgic. He set up an easel by the window of the actual scene and painted the past scenery that floated in his heart. A sunrise that looks like a sunset is a memory of the sun that humanity has etched into its mind since the primitive age. It is both a sunrise and a sunset, a beloved sun that appears at the beginning of the day and disappears at the end of the day, a "good impression" from ancient times etched into the human gene.

When I saw that painting, the reason I felt like I had seen it somewhere in a port long ago was because the suns and ports I had encountered in the past remained in my mind as such hazy impressions. An impression becomes the past tense in an instant and is etched into the heart. It is not the real thing itself, but is etched into the heart like Michelangelo's roughly carved unfinished sculptures. The viewer will likely enjoy the work while imagining the completed form by looking at it. Since impressions that have become past tense also become memories, they cause discrepancies with the actual scene. Naturally, the actual scene is inferior to the past tense because the past tense is seasoned with emotions and fears from ancient times that have been etched into the hearts of successive generations. Therefore, a "good impression" is chosen as further emotion, and a "bad impression" is distanced as further fear. Even now, humans, under the internal pressure of impressions, with amoebic fluidity of protruding and retracting, are determining the direction they should walk using superficial sensations of likes and dislikes as a crutch... which means we are still involved in politics in a carefree manner with the manners of an amoeba (is this jealousy?).

PS: There is also a wife who acts tough, saying, "A politician's ability is a matter of hindsight, so you have no choice but to choose by looks!" If Mr. Koizumi takes the helm, the results will be something to look forward to.

Short-Short
The Tokugawa Buried Treasure

(I)

The Takaji family are descendants of a Sengoku-period warlord, and as local notables, they have produced members of the National Diet for generations since the Meiji era. The current head, Nakatora, lost in the last House of Councillors election and was planning to run in the next House of Representatives election, but because he was no longer an incumbent, he could not receive any under-the-table money and was struggling with funding. Having no choice, he called a local real estate agent to sell a portion of the vast residential land that had been passed down through his ancestors.

Nakatora guided him to a sloped area about 50 meters down from the mansion, which stood on a small hill. It was covered in dense shrubs, and about 30 meters further down from there were spacious rice paddies. Of course, those rice paddies were also owned by Nakatora and were rented out to several local farmers. "This isn't exactly a great location. Do you have any other candidate sites?" "Since it's land passed down from my ancestors, I don't really want to sell it. If I have to sell something, it's only this. Could you at least give me an estimate?" "Understood. I don't think I can meet your expectations, but I will provide a price. You don't mind if I enter and survey the land, do you?" "Ah..."

A week later, the real estate agent brought the appraisal documents and handed them to Nakatora. "Only 50 million for such a large area..." Nakatora slumped his shoulders and let out a deep sigh. "After all, even if you build an apartment complex, the transportation access is..." "I understand. Let me think about it for a while." A week later, the real estate agent brought a revised estimate. "Since you are a descendant of the lord my ancestors served for generations, I have made a great effort," he said, and the offered amount was 200 million yen. "That's amazing. I was actually hoping for double that, but this amount might be within an acceptable range. However, I need you to wait a little while for my answer."

After the real estate agent left, Nakatora received a call from a lawyer who had helped him when he was a Diet member. "The election is approaching. If you have any troubles, please feel free to contact me." Nakatora told him about his interaction with the real estate agent. He was suspicious that the estimate had suddenly quadrupled. "That is suspicious. Understood, let's hire a detective to investigate the real estate agent. There might be some foul play involved."

A few days later, the lawyer called. "When I had the detective investigate, it seems that a few days ago, at an izakaya the real estate agent often frequents, he was talking to a local historian from this area. They seemed to be spreading out an old, tattered map and talking about the Takaji family." What could it be... Nakatora wondered, and a few seconds later, he shouted "Ah!" and his body began to shake. He remembered that when he was a child, his late father had mobilized the household to search the entire mansion, starting with the two storehouses. His father had been shouting, "There must be an old map of the buried treasure somewhere," but it didn't turn up even after two weeks of searching. When Nakatora told the lawyer this, they decided, "Then let's go meet this so-called local historian together and verify it."

The two stood at the entrance of the local historian's house, which looked like a ruin, and rang the bell. The person who came out was a thin, dirty old man who looked to be over 70. As soon as he saw Nakatora, he said, "My Lord. Thank you for coming," and invited them into a six-mat Japanese-style room. In the back of the worn-out room was a small Buddhist altar, and a photograph of what appeared to be his late wife was leaning against it.

"How do you know about me?" the old man asked. "I cannot say," the lawyer replied. "Do you not have the old documents that were in my house?" When Nakatora asked, the old man wore a vulgar smile and asked back, "Are you talking about the old map?" "Yes. The old map that was in my family's storehouse." "Was it stolen?" "Probably," Nakatora replied, and the lawyer hurriedly added, "Can't you return it to us?" "If you haven't filed a theft report, I refuse. I discovered it at an old bookstore in Kanda and paid a large sum of money to acquire it. I am sure only you, Nakatora-sama, and I know that it is the lord's mansion. However, I cannot hand it over."
"Then won't you sell it to us?" Nakatora asked. "For how much?" "Maybe about 100,000..." The local historian bared his toothless gums and laughed out loud. "I wonder what your ancestors buried in that place." "Well, is that location on the old map?" "Certainly." "Could you show it to us?" "No. You'll find out the location." "Was it written what is buried there?" "I don't know. It must be something important, though."

The lawyer, who had been listening to the exchange between the two, asked with some irritation, "So, what do you want? Surely you don't intend to trespass and dig it up yourself, do you?" Then the local historian lit a cigarette with a lighter, took a deep drag, exhaled a long cloud of smoke, and blew it at the two people facing him. "Half." "Half?" Nakatora asked. "Split it down the middle. If you don't like it, the negotiation is off." "I see, so it's a negotiation. Understood, let's back down for now." When the lawyer said this, the local historian stopped him. "Lawyer. There is something interesting written on the old map. It says something about dispersing the vast funds of the Tokugawa Shogunate into five locations and burying one of them in this land." "Don't tell me, the Tokugawa buried treasure?" Nakatora's voice trembled. "A part of it," the local historian said, laughing, "Heh heh heh." "That's a problem..." "What is?"

Nakatora looked at the lawyer's frowning face as if peering at him timidly. "In other words, that money belongs to the Tokugawa family, who were your ancestors' lords. It doesn't belong to the Takaji family... which means that according to the arrangements after the Meiji Restoration, all Tokugawa assets became the property of the Meiji government, and the current government, as its successor, owns them. Naturally, the discoverer can receive a reward, but..." "A reward? You've got to be kidding! Lawyer, can't you do something?" Nakatora said, grabbing the lawyer's arm tightly with both hands. "Now, now, take it easy," the lawyer said, gently shaking off his hand, and continued. "If the buried treasure is discovered, it must be reported to the government. But if it's Tokugawa, it's game over if we report it. They'll take it all." "However, if we split it, there's no need to report it," the local historian chimed in. "So, is the real estate agent the only other person who knows about this?" "That is correct," the local historian replied, then added, "But we don't need to count him in." "He's just a drinking buddy. If the Lord refuses to sell the land, that's that. I'll just say the old map was a fake."

The lawyer crossed his arms for a while, then clapped his hands as if he had made up his mind. "My Lord! Your subordinates are this old man and myself. However, a split is too unfair to you, My Lord. How about this, Mr. Historian: 50% for the Lord, 40% for you, and 10% for me? Even if it's not your ancestors' money, My Lord, if it's confiscated by the government, you won't even get 10%. You won't even get 5%, sir. I'll get zero. Let this clean and honest lawyer become a villain. I have to get my 10% commission, you see. Sir, what is the value of the buried treasure?" "4 million ryo. 20 trillion yen. They divided it into five locations and buried it, so there's 4 trillion yen in your garden." "Even a 10% commission is 40 billion yen..." the lawyer said. "Understood," said the local historian. "Okay," Nakatora agreed with a sigh. ...And so, the three of them exchanged a memorandum of sorts and entered the path of evil.

(II)

A week later, the lawyer brought a large safe in a truck and carried it into the dirt floor of the Takaji mansion. The lawyer's three sons helped with the transport. "First, let's dig up only what will fit in this large safe. Then we will store it in your house, My Lord, and I will keep the key. That should put your mind at ease, My Lord." "Understood." "Work will start tomorrow. My three sons will do the digging, so please supervise them, My Lord, to ensure nothing is stolen." "Understood. I'll have my two sons help with the work too. I want to see the gold coins as soon as possible." "Thank you very much."

The next morning at 8:00, the lawyer, his three sons, and the local historian carrying the old map arrived in a large van, dressed in gaiters and tabi boots. The Lord also welcomed them with his two sons. The local historian took out the old map and showed it to Nakatora. "Is this it? Is this the old map my father searched for with bloodshot eyes?" Nakatora looked at the old map with deep emotion and asked the local historian, "It's exactly that spot. Does this mean the treasure is under where this X is marked?" "That is correct. That X is a Kifune stone, known as a signature stone. The shape of the stone is even drawn underneath. Since it's your garden, My Lord, you must be familiar with that stone." "No, no, I'm not a person interested in garden stones. Besides, this place is covered in shrubs and weeds, so we have to start by clearing them." "There is no need for that. As a local historian, I have researched various castle ruins. If you part the grass, you can find the rock. If there are stones or rocks, I can immediately determine their value. If it's a Kifune stone, I'll spot it instantly." ...And so, led by the local historian with the old map and Nakatora, followed by the lawyer and his sons carrying tools, they went down into the grass toward their destination.

When they reached the area around the X, the local historian parted the tall weeds with practiced movements and searched for about 10 minutes, cutting shrubs with a hatchet, until he found the target stone. To Nakatora's eyes, it was a plain stone that could be found anywhere. "Now, you five young men, move this stone," said the local historian. The stone wouldn't budge even with five people. However, if a vast amount of buried treasure was buried in this area, it would be buried over a fairly wide range centered around that spot. Even without moving the stone, it was certain that it would come out if they dug to the side. The local historian took a machine that looked like a smartphone out of his pocket. "It's a portable metal detector." When he walked around the stone with it, it beeped in one spot. One of the lawyer's sons put a shovel there. The soil was as soft as leaf mold, and they were able to dig easily. The sons took turns digging, and in less than 20 minutes, the tip of the shovel hit something hard. When the five of them carefully removed the soil with work gloves, the first thousand-ryo box was exposed, and everyone let out a shout. When two of them lifted the box to the ground, they were able to confirm that there was another box underneath it.

"As I expected. Since this is a sloped area, the soil has washed away over many years, and the treasure that was originally buried deep has come up near the surface. You are a lucky man, My Lord," said the local historian. "No, this is likely filled with the wishes of my ancestors. The Takaji family was a daimyo family that should have stood above the Tokugawa family. Therefore, they had the war funds buried to let me, their descendant, achieve the conquest of the country that they could not. Do you understand? With this money, I must aim for the seat of Prime Minister." Everyone around applauded. "However, we must first check the contents of the box," said the lawyer. "That's true. Everyone, let's pray to our ancestors first so that we don't rejoice in vain." Everyone offered a prayer, and the young man pried the lid open with all his might using a crowbar.

Everyone peered inside and let out cries of amazement. The brown-discolored Japanese paper must have been a 100-ryo bundle containing 100 gold coins. There were 10 such bundles packed into the thousand-ryo box. The local historian took out one bundle, tore the paper, took out one gold coin, and rubbed it with his work glove, revealing a golden shine. "It's real. And it has historical value," he said, handing it to Nakatora. He polished it further with his work glove, bit the shiny part like a gold medal, and grinned. "Congratulations," the lawyer said, blessing them, and everyone applauded.

When the young men brought out five boxes, it felt as though they had finished digging up that spot. "There is still plenty more buried, but it would be best to leave it at this for today," said the local historian. They filled in the hole, loaded the five boxes onto the wheelbarrow they had brought, and the three of them pushed the 100-kilogram load up the slope. Upon arriving at the mansion, they immediately stored them in the large safe placed in the dirt-floored room, and the lawyer locked it.

"So, when shall we split the spoils?" asked the local historian.
"Well..." Nakatora said, looking at the lawyer.
"Let's do it this way. When we have ten boxes of gold coins, we will have our first split. Until then, they will be kept in this safe, and I will hold the key," said the lawyer.
"What about this one?" Nakatora asked, taking the single coin he had bitten earlier out of his breast pocket. "Just decorate your Buddhist altar with it," the local historian said, and everyone laughed.

(II)

That night, Nakatora called one of his sons and handed him the gold coin.
"Find a shop in Tokyo and check how much this is worth. It might be a fake, after all."
The son left for Tokyo early the next morning, showed the gold coin he had brought to an antique dealer, and returned. He said it had a high gold content and was worth around 400,000 yen.
"Four hundred million yen for a box of gold coins... If there are five of them, that's two billion yen."
Nakatora hugged his sons in joy. Then one of his sons said, "That local historian is useless now, isn't he?" Although Nakatora scolded him, saying, "Don't be stupid!", he began to feel that it was unforgivable for that old geezer to become a multi-millionaire from artifacts found on his own land. So, he called the lawyer.

"Admittedly, it should all belong to the lord. However, as long as that old map indicates it is Tokugawa buried treasure, the government will claim ownership."
"Then what?"
"Exactly. Without the old map, there is no proof that this is Tokugawa buried treasure. However, even if we burn that shack, it would be game over if it were in a bank safety deposit box. The surest way is to kill that geezer and set his house on fire."
"Arson and murder? That's a serious crime."
"My son wants to emigrate to America. If you can provide 300 million yen in cash, my son will do it."
"Huh, really? But I can't get that much money unless I sell the gold coins."
"You must not sell those. It would be too conspicuous if you sold a large amount now. If you want to settle this quickly, please scrape the money together, even if you have to borrow it. How about my share being doubled to 20%?"
"20% plus 300 million yen? Don't push your luck."
"I'm making my son a murderer. It's only natural. When you consider the lord's profit, it's like a mosquito bite. There is still plenty more treasure buried, after all."
"That's true, too. Understood. I'll give you an answer tomorrow."

(III)

A few days later, the local newspaper reported that the local historian's house had been set on fire and that the local historian was missing. A week later, Nakatora ran around to his supporters' homes, scraped together 300 million yen under the guise of election funds, breathed a sigh of relief, and called the lawyer. The lawyer brought one of his sons and stuffed the cash into a large bag.

"Did you kill him?"
"Yes, the three brothers did it. We buried the body in the mountains."
"Hahaha, is that so? By the way, when is the next treasure hunt?"
"In two weeks. This one is leaving for study abroad in America tomorrow," said the lawyer.
"Is that so? Good luck to him. So the other two will come?"
"That is correct."

However, even after two weeks, there was no word from the lawyer. When Nakatora called, the lawyer did not answer. Having no choice, he went to the law office, but it was an empty room. Nakatora had a sinking feeling, called a locksmith, and tried opening the large safe. The contents of the open gold coin boxes were filled with fake coins. The contents of the other four boxes were rocks and sand. Nakatora and his two sons were so shocked that they collapsed on the spot.

At the same time, the lawyer and the members of the fraud group were holding a banquet at a luxury restaurant on Waikiki Beach. The three sons were actually young members of the group. The real estate agent was the boss of the group, and the local historian was the real estate agent's father.
When champagne was poured into the glasses, everyone stood up.
"With just one gold coin, we got 300 million yen. To the success of the project, cheers!"
At the real estate agent's signal, the glasses clinked with a dry sound.

(End)

Poem
The End of Life

The man's thin body was tied to the floor

His dreams roamed across the withered fields

Spending a long time

Wrapped in the color of twilight

He finally understood the meaning of life

What day was it... in a hazy dream

I remembered the old days when I stood on a noble peak

Unforgivably, the life I had then was lightly

The miracle meant by the 360-degree panorama

I could not deeply savor

It was captured by a life that still exists

Just a fleeting moment of emotion...

Life is a series of moments, frame by frame

Continuing on as a long, long film

An endless, vast sequence of images

The man carefully recalled the continuous scenes

And regretted the mistakes he had lightly brushed aside

Life is an excellent director that creates uninterrupted emotion

But the young actor was always dissatisfied with the slow technique

The man repented and wept for his errors

It is like an Ozu film, a flow of boring days

Why did I not deeply savor each and every scene

And celebrate them...

The artistry of living

Why did I not savor it at each moment...

The life of a man that once seemed dull

is now shining brilliantly

And the moment the radiance of life shifted to the radiance of heaven

suddenly there was a sharp sound and the film snapped

the reel spun empty with a clatter, and oh...

the waveform of tears of joy went flat

A nurse comes over quickly and touches my hand

just as a projectionist of old would have done...

Fantasy novel by Hikari Kyozuki now on sale
"Marilyn Pig" (Gentosha)
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