Between the Vines, Behind the Eyes

In May, the season had already begun to resemble early summer.

Fukushima, where my friend was born, is a place where the sea and mountains quietly sustain life.

I walked, following the light as it moved across the land.

What I found there was the quiet breath of nature,
and traces of human life woven into it.

Along the coast, young pines planted in the years after the tsunami swayed in the wind,
their slender forms still fragile.

The sea kept moving.

As if trying to loosen the vines still intertwined,
I looked into the clear eyes of an animal
and found something I could not fully name.

For Kaori