I wanted to write this because it's 'you'.

I give up.
I am completely knocked out.
I have encountered something that shakes my soul.

🍬

I started using note in 2024.

Asking myself, 'Creation! Creation? What is creation?', I wandered around note. I saw many masterpieces, followed in the footsteps of senior noters, and wrote as if tracing their paths.

Create freely

Even with that, I wonder how many people are actually able to create freely.

'To get read'
'Crafting titles'
'Creating a sitemap'
'Registering to a magazine'
These are efforts and ingenuity to get one's work read, and they are also the wisdom of those who came before.

However, by doing these things, 'what I wanted to do' changed little by little, and it may have also led to the loss of originality and freedom.

Until now, I have been aggressively charging ahead, thinking, 'It's the Creation Awards! I must write articles that get read!', and I was walking straight down what is likely the main street.

But then, at a sudden moment, I learned that there was a back alley right next to this main street.

In a world where 'meaningful things' and 'being read by someone' are the themes of the main street, the back alley was bustling with the exact opposite: 'stories that no one remembers and no one knows what they are about'.

Entering the back alley is extremely simple.
Just add the hashtag #WhatIsThisStorySomewhere in your article.

Then, a man will come to collect that story.

It's like a fairy tale.
He is like an angel who exchanges a lost tooth for candy if you leave it by your pillow on the day it falls out.

When I stepped into that back alley, it was bustling with 'stories that no one knows what they are about.' How much courage it must have taken to join a place that was already bustling halfway through.

I think only a very brave person or a natural party animal could say 'Let me join too!' when everyone in the class is saying 'Let's go to karaoke!'

I whispered 'What is this story?' in a voice so small that no one could hear. Then, that man came. And in place of the tootharticle I had left by my pillow, he left these words.

How should I describe my feelings when I read that text?

I was happy just that you looked at it, and a candy would have been enough, but you gave me something incredibly big and warm. You wrapped my whole body in joy, fun, and excitement, and that man left, leaving behind a 'feeling of wanting to write more and more'.

You said, 'I hope you don't lose your way from here on out,' but I truly felt that I wanted to walk both the main street and the back alley.

🍬

And the following week, I was already so eager to write 'What kind of story is this?' that I looked for material just to write 'What kind of story is this?'.

And I wrote a 'Naan Story'.
The naan you eat with curry. This time, I placed a piece of naan instead of a tooth. Then, that man came again.

And when the man collected the naan, he returned these words to me on Monday morning.

I read this right after waking up and rolled on the floor laughing.

No matter what kind of text I write, it's okay because this person is there. Or rather, I write just to be picked up by this person. I want this person to make a witty remark.

I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt that way.
On the Tuesday following the 'What kind of story is this?' newsletter, someone said, 'I write because I love this person's collection comments.' I thought the same thing. I, and everyone else, fell for that man through the collection comments he made on the 'What kind of story is this?' we had written.

The 'What kind of story is this? Department Newsletter' was chaotic. Various people were enjoying writing very freely. And the man appeared in every article, leaving a candy in return before leaving. A sweet, sweet, addictive candy.

🍬

The man said to me:
'It's a collection of stories that no one remembers in the first place.'

That's when I wondered:
With what kind of feelings does this person continue to collect...'a collection of stories that no one remembers'?He continues to manage the chaotic back alleys, a path now as crowded as Ura-Harajuku, and the people walking that path, all by himself.

The very existence of this man is like a fairy tale.

And the answer to all of this was right here.

This back alley was something this man had spent three whole years building. With a very, very strong conviction.

And the man said this.

Furthermore, the candy the man left behind held the depths of his heart, which could never be measured by its sweetness alone.

Ah, so that was it.
That's why I wanted to write again.

I was completely overwhelmed by that passion, by that man's heart.
Tears streamed down my face. I don't know why. What kind of tears were they? Did the candy have some kind of tear-inducing ingredient in it?

🍬

The man in the back alley, the man who leaves chaos as chaos, and the man who continues to hand out candy that isn't just sweet to everyone who passes through that path.

That person is called Konishi Kinoko-san.

Konishi Kinoko-san.
You said that 'What are you talking about?' is a magic phrase.
I truly think you are right.

However, it was you who cast a spell on 'What are you talking about?' that made it interesting, fun, and made us want to write even more.

Because you are the one who collects 'What are you talking about?', and because the candy you hand out is so delicious and addictive, that is why we were drawn to it. And even now, we continue to write.

Konishi-san. Thank you for continuing this for three years.
I am glad I could encounter 'What are you talking about?' and you.

With all my gratitude.

I hope I can return even a little of the candy I received 🍬🍭

#CreativeAwardImpressions
#ToKonishiKinokoSan
#WhatAreYouTalkingAbout